Post-Birth Hospital Stay

After Maxwell was born, and got to see his little puffy face, Luke and I looked at him and determined that he was indeed a "Maxwell Jacob" and that our backup name ("Everett") was not needed.  The doctor had asked me at one point during his birth if it was okay to do the slightest cut to help our baby come out.  He had his little fist balled up right by his face, and just needed a little more room to make his exit, so while Luke and I were admiring what we had created, I received a couple of stitches after delivering the placenta (I seriously don't even remember delivering the placenta).  I never thought that I would want to see it, but when the resident who had observed the birth asked me excitedly if I wanted to take a look, I surprisingly said yes. It was pretty cool (and gross) to see what had kept my baby alive for the past 40 weeks.

At about 10am, we let my mom, and Luke's parents, who had all camped out in the maternity ward visitor's lounge since 10pm peek their heads in so we could introduce them all to their first grandson.  Since I was sitting naked under the sheet with the baby on my lap, there wasn't a lot of hugs at that point, but I do remember there being tears when we introduced him as "Maxwell Jacob Lorenz."  I didn't offer to let anyone else hold him at that point (I was still in a bit of shock that my baby was here, and I wasn't quite ready to give him up yet), but they were all going to stop by later that evening, so they would eventually get their chance.

**TMI ALERT** 

scroll down to the next paragraph if you have a weak stomach...

At about noon, my sisters all arrived to meet their first nephew, and Lauren was the first to arrive.  While she was holding Max, the nurse came in to do another fundle massage.  I told her when she was done that I thought I felt like there was some sort of blockage down there, and she did a massage with more pressure.  When she did that, I felt a huge clot shoot out, and heard blood splash.  By the looks on Lauren and Lukes' faces, I could tell that it was a lot, and probably not good.  By that time, Zibby and Paige had just arrived to see Max.  The nurses definitely seemed concerned, but hadn't really spoken to me yet, and I could only see them calculating how much blood I had lost.  They put me on a pitocin drip to stop the large clots from happening, and to keep me from hemorrhaging more than I had already.  

I knew that it had to be serious when the doctor came in and asked my sisters to leave the room so she could talk to me.  I had surpassed the acceptable amount for blood loss, and if they couldn't get it to stop, they would have to either do a blood transfusion, or do a D&C procedure.  Luke had been out of the room when I talked to Dr. G, so I was all alone, and scared that I would have to leave my baby or somehow be separated from him.  They determined that they would take my hemoglobin, and if it came back at 10 or less, I would have to have interventions.  After my blood was run through the lab hours later, I found out that it was at an 11, so I just barely escaped.  While I was there, I remember feeling fine (a bit dizzy from the lack of sleep, but all together fine), but I look back at pictures and I was grey.  I had lost all color in my face (I had a pretty good tan going on!), and my eyes have a slight dullness to them.  Thinking back, I realize that things could have taken a turn for the worse, and I am grateful that I was okay.