Roller Coaster, Baby!

It was pretty darn scary to have all those people in the delivery room with us. Once I dilated to a 9, it's as if they completley forgot about me and focused on the baby. Ok - well my Ob, Paul, my mom and my mother-in-law were concerned about me but everybody else that was there was there for him. I think, total, there were 14 people in the room. My Ob, an Ob resident, a med student, a neonatoligist, one RT, two or three nurses for me, nurses for the baby and a tech. Forget a little modesty at this point.

Joaquin's birth was by far different than Alejandro's. For one, when I had Alejandro I did not have 14 people in the room. Not for a long shot. I was in labor for 16 hours with Alejandro and I pushed for two hours. With Joaquin I was in labor for maybe 10 hours and I pushed for 45 minutes or less.

When he came out they quickly took him to the warming table and I was anxious to hear him cry. I finally breathed when I heard his weak cry (I would later on learn that a weak cry is a clear sign of a heart problem). The neonatologist brought him to my side for a quick kiss and he was gone. And so was everybody else. The room went from 14 people to four. My Ob was teaching her student and I listented along. Well hey, since she was teaching I figured I would ask to see the placenta. So that's what it looks like...interesting, I told her. Once they were done, I was left all alone to wonder what was going on with Joaquin.

Paul came back to tell me that he was fine and that he was being worked on in the nursery. They finally moved me to a recovery room and by 9:30PM, Joaquin was wheeled by me in an incubator by the Driscoll transport team. I must have been on some adrenaline rush because I jumped out of the bed so quickly to see him that I felt no pain. Alejandro got to see him through a little window and I stuck my hand in there to touch him. He was alseep and buckled in...ready for the ride.

Paul followed the ambulance over to Driscoll and was given a guest room by social services. I remember calling him several times to see if he had heard anything. Paul said they kept on running tests on him but that everything was ok. Ok...so I fell asleep. Alone. No husband, no baby...alone.

The next morning I was bright eyed and bushy tailed ready to go see my baby. My Ob came in and asked if I was ok. I was so cheery that I think I freaked her out. She told me to relax and she discharged me 12 hours after having Joaquin. And off I went.

Discoll Children's Hospital is something else. Such a cheery and hopeful place. Later on I learned that most parents there were clinging on to just that - hope. As I got my band, I headed up to the second floor...PICU, bed three. My cutie looked perfect and pink! Wow... I told myself. I was glad I was prepared because this seemed like a piece of cake. Until she came in.

She was Dr. Goya. She had maroon scrubs on and she looked a mess. Her accent told me she was from Spain. And her words told me what I didn't want to hear. She looked so sad and concerned and I kept wondering why. And then I learned why. Dr. Goya was somehow trying to tell me that our son did not just have Tricuspid Atresia as we were told when I was pregnant but he also had Transpotition of the Great Arteries, Type B and an Interrupted Aortic Arch. I'm sorry - what???

I didn't hear any of that. And it took me while to finally understand what all that meant (I'll explain in detail in a later post). All I kept hearing was complex and complicated. Those words are now like nails on a chalkboard. What parent wants to hear that her baby's heart is "complicated". I could not stop crying. My whole world came crashing down on me. Joaquin's heart was complicated and mine was broken...