Bradycardia, One Year Later

As long as I live, I will always remember May 30-June 1, 2011. I don't remember what we did on Memorial Day that year. I just remember sitting in the evening, feeling extremely exhausted, more so than five days after my other children were born. More than exhausted, I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. This pressure often came with breathing difficulties associated with asthma, but I wasn't having an asthma attack. On a whim, I took my blood pressure. It was fine, but my pulse wasn't. I knew immediately that a pulse in the 40s was dangerous. I called my OB, curious if this was a post-op danger (I still had moderate-heavy bleeding). In the time I was waiting for her to call back, I continued to check my pulse. Sitting: 38. Standing: 42. I ran around the apartment for two minutes and took it again: 55. I sat down again: 41. I was scared. I told LJ that we needed to be ready to go to the hospital. He thought I was exaggerating, but started getting the kids ready.

When the doctor called me back, she wasn't sure what to tell me. She suggested I go to urgent care or the hospital. Hoping to avoid taking my newborn to the hospital, we loaded the kids up and went down to the urgent care center. (Hint: if you are trying to figure out whether you should go to the ER or urgent care, go to the ER. Don't waste time. If your doctor's office is closed, urgent care is great. It's not a substitute for the ER).

At the urgent care center, I was treated by a less than sympathetic nurse practitioner. She refused to let my husband and children come back to the room. I had to leave my husband, 5 day old, 2 year old and 3 year old in the waiting room. She left me, undressed, in the room for about fifteen minutes. Without pads, milk was pouring out of me. I was in tears, scared out of my life. The medical assistant came in and did an echo. She left, and I heard Josiah screaming in the waiting room. I got dressed, walked down the hall and took him so I could feed him.

The nurse practitioner came back in and said, "We are going to call an ambulance to transfer you to the nearest hospital." I said, "No you are not. First, tell me what is wrong with me." She said, "You're having bradycardia, and you need more tests run." I said, "Well, I want to go to St. Luke's." She said, "The ambulance will take you to the nearest hospital, which is Shands." I said, "I'm not going in an ambulance." I walked out of the room, in tears afraid of what was going on. At the time, I had no clue what bradycardia was. All I knew was "cardia" which meant heart. Something was wrong with my heart.

Being the natural, calm, collected, easy-going person I am, I immediately began to think I was dying, that I was going to leave my husband a widower with three small children, searching for donor breastmilk, homeschooling them with the help of my mother, lonely and not having a clue about things like how to wash cloth diapers, how to wrap the Girasol wrap, how to tell the doctor not to retract the boys' foreskins, which vaccines have what in them and why we say no... I was so scared. I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible and get to the ER. They made me sign out AMA (Against Medical Advice). We left, and called my mom to meet us at the hospital.

We arrived at St. Luke's, my mom took the older two, and LJ, Josiah and I went in and checked into the ER. Apparently, when you say "bradycardia", people move fast. We barely spent five minutes in triage. Before we knew it, we were in a room, I was hooked up to a heart monitor, I had x-rays done and we were waiting to meet the doctor. He came in and told me my heart was enlarged. He wanted to do a CT scan with contrast, but to do so I'd have to stop nursing my baby for 3 days. WHAT?!?!?! My exclusively breastfed (EBF) baby. The baby that has never taken a pacifier or a bottle. My FIVE DAY OLD CHILD. The child I was planning on breastfeeding AT LEAST until he was two or three??? STOP? NO WAY! I told the doctor there had to be another way to get the images they needed, that I was not going to stop breastfeeding for that long. He left to go talk to the radiologist. 

I broke down, crying my eyes out over my baby. My sweet, adorable, breastfeeding at the time, baby. I couldn't imagine not breastfeeding him for three whole days. I couldn't imagine not breastfeeding him for 3 hours! The head radiologist came in to talk to me. He said it was at least 24 hours I'd have to not breastfeed, but they would get me a pump and anything I needed to keep my supply up. My mom made a supply run to the house and WalMart for frozen breastmilk, the laptop, bottles, pacifiers, then met up at the hospital. I nursed Josiah until they took me to CT. I cried sobbed all the way there. They had to calm me down so I wasn't shaking during the scan. During the scan, I could hear my heart racing in my ears. I looked up at the heart monitor. 50 BPM. Not your typical I'm-scared-out-of-my-mind heart rate. I made a decision in that machine. Breastfeeding wasn't the most important thing in my life. LIFE was the most important thing in my life! I would find breastmilk. I knew friends who breastfed. I had a handful I would be happy to let wetnurse my baby. I knew of Human Milk 4 Human Babies. My situation was exactly what HM4HB was set up for! And, if push came to shove, I would make my own, organic formula as a last resort (the way formula was created to be).

When I came back from CT, my baby was asleep in my mom's arms. I told her to take him home, and I would work on finding more milk for him. I sent messages out to my local ICAN group, the HM4HB Florida page, and a local mom's group. My mom stayed with us until they admitted me and put us in a room. I kissed my sleeping baby, afraid that was the last time I'd see him. My mom left.

We attempted to settle in for the night, but it was quite difficult. My heart rate at its highest was still too low to be acceptable to the heart monitor. It was always flashing a bright red light and beeping. The nurse immediately turned the alarms off, and eventually just turned off our monitor. I tried to sleep. At 7AM, my hospital phone, cell phone and e-mail was flooded with offers for milk for my baby. One of those close friends I mentioned offered to wetnurse. A few friends and strangers offered to pump. One friend in particular saw my posts, got in the car with her mom and two littles of her own and drove over an hour to get a gallon sized bag of frozen breastmilk and a gallon of frozen raw goat's milk to my mom. My baby had milk! And just in time too! My mom told me that Josiah finished my last bag if milk when Jessica drove up! I rested that morning knowing that God provided. If I couldn't breastfeed my baby, someone would!

I met with a cardiologist. He said my heart's enlargement was normal for a woman less than a week postpartum. He said my heart rate got down to 35 during the night, and we needed to do whatever we could to get it up again. Already prepared for the medicine he was going to suggest (thanks to my awesome doctor in the ER), I had already contacted the Infant Risk Center regarding the safety of the suggested medicine and alternatives. He agreed to the safer alternative, and we started on that, a diuretic for the water retention, and got a sonogram of my heart.

Then we waited. The medicine to get my heart rate up caused a horrible migraine. They gave me medicine for that, and in between sleep and pumping, LJ and I watched Bones on my laptop. That was the longest 24 hours of my life. I didn't even want to call my mom. I knew if I did, I'd hear my baby, and they'd need to sedate me. I was a hormonal mess.

We went to sleep that night and slept better now that the heart monitor wasn't beeping nonstop. My heart rate had returned to normal. When we woke up the next morning, my mom was already on her way with my babies. 24 hours had came and gone, and I was ready to see my baby! At discharge, my cardiologist said I needed to continue to pump and dump for 3 more days. I laughed. I asked him why, and he said the medicine we used needed to be out of my system... after already switching to a safer medicine for breastfeeding?? I told him I'd take it into advisement... as I was latching my 1 week old baby on.

Once again, I was wheeled out of St. Luke's Hospital in a wheelchair with a baby in my arms... We went home and rested.

A year has passed, and I can still remember the pain I felt of having to kiss my baby goodbye. I really thought I was dying. I thought I wouldn't be able to breastfeed again. God is good, and he answered my prayers with a resounding "YES!" Josiah started breastfeeding again with no problem, and he is still breastfeeding now at 1 year and 5 days old. More than that, those two days were the ONLY time he took a bottle! Ask my mom! He still takes a pacifier, but we didn't re-introduce that until he was 3 months old and started teething and was hurting Mama. Also, my heart has never given us any more issues. The cardiologist said it was caridac fatigue from childbirth. If we weren't "done" before, we are now!

I remember the pain, but I also remember the relief. I remember how great it felt to get all those phone calls and e-mails offering breastmilk, wetnursing, pumping, etc. You ladies know who you are, and you will never know how much you all mean to me. Jessica, you may mean the most to me because you barely had a yes and you were on the road bringing my baby the food he needed! I love you all! 

For more information on donating breastmilk, please search for your state, province or country's Human Milk 4 Human Babies page on facebook, twitter or e-mail them using the Human Milk 4 Human Babies website at www.hm4hb.net. 


**ETA: I checked with Infant Risk and several other sources, and I did *NOT* need to pump and dump for 24 hours! I asked about the specific isotope, and they said 4 hours max with most if not all of them! So, live and learn, and move on. I'm just thankful our breastfeeding relationship wasn't sacrificed!**

Time Flies

The more children I have, the faster time goes by. I remember being a new mom, with this tiny, fussy little girl in my arms thinking... 


"I can't wait until she sleeps better!"
"I can't wait until she sits up!"
"I can't wait until she crawls!"
"I can't wait until she walks!"
"I can't wait until she talks!"


Then in the blink of an eye, I'm pregnant with her brother, and she's one! I wished her infancy away, looking forward to her next development and never appreciating the now.


I was determined not to let it happen with her little brother. I would enjoy every moment. Breathe it in, accept the struggles of no sleep for three months (yes, three months. She's still our lightest sleeper) and enjoy her baby babbles without wishing to hear words.


Yet, enjoying an infant is rather difficult while chasing his big sister around. His first year went faster than hers. I didn't get to enjoy as much quiet time just holding my baby, just appreciating all of his wondrous traits. He was typically on my chest in a wrap while we went about errands, doctor's appointments, etc. I got lots of cuddle time, but not enough quiet time to breathe him in. Before I knew it, he was one.


When their little brother came around, I knew being home alone with three kids all day would be difficult. I knew it would take a lot of time and energy. I didn't know his infancy would pass the fastest. I remember telling LJ at every developmental stage (newborn, 3 months, 6 months, 9 months, 11 months) "I love this age!" because I do! I can now appreciate the highs and lows of infancy, how there are good things to having a newborn (hello, you get to nap when baby naps!), a young infant (searching for that first smile, lots of lovies, watching him discover fascinating things like... his fist), an older infant (becoming mobile... yay!), and a pre-toddler (those first steps...).


Once again in the blink of an eye, and way before I'm ready to, I'm looking at a one year old. He didn't help the process by walking at 10 months old. It's almost as if he knew he had to catch up to his brother and sister. I feel like this last year has gone by way too fast, faster than the first years of his brother and sister. Why, oh why, is it now that I've learned my lesson that I don't get to appreciate babyhood?


Time flies. I know, because my parents tell me. My grandmother tells me. I complain about my baby being one before I'm ready, her baby has a baby that has a baby. I know it's just going to get worse as they get older, as we're flying around to scouts, homeschool activities, family activities, etc. All I can do is appreciate the now. To those three angels who, during the night, have overtaken our bed. I watch them sleep, so peacefully, knowing in about ten minutes our house is coming to life and it's not going to stop until 9PM. And I pray that I can appreciate the ages they are in now, knowing that if I blink too much they will be grown up...


Happy birthday, Josiah.

Caution: Highly Opinionated Woman Ahead

I feel the need to preface this blog with a warning.

I have some opinions that may come out in the blog. I may blog about current events, subjects that matter a lot to me, subjects that I am passionate about, or subjects that bug me to death. You may enjoy these opinions.

You may hate them.

It may make me sound extremely harsh or rude, but I really don't care. This is my place. I speak my mind. So, if you don't care to hear my opinions on:

• marriage (including God's plan for marriage--to include gay marriage and a woman's role in marriage)
• childbirth
• breastfeeding
• routine infant circumcision
• the current political "mess" (**on both sides of the aisle, mind you**)
• homeschooling
• religion and faith

That's fine. I understand. I'm not even hurt. It's my right to speak my mind on these subjects. It's your right to completely ignore me on these subjects. Just know, I will not permit attacks against my God, myself, or my family to stay on this blog. Good-hearted debate and discussion is welcome. If it gets offensive, it will be deleted. I don't do this to "censor" anything. This blog is mainly the story of our life. That story may lead down the path of certain highly debated topics. I don't wish to turn into a place where people argue, fight, etc. It is a place for me to share the life and times of myself and my family.

I hope you enjoy. Some posts may be long. Some posts may be one-liners (from my smartypants almost-five-year-old). I hope to include many pictures from our crazy life.

Enjoy!

Becca

So there's me...

My name is Becca. I'm pushing 30. I grew up in sunny Florida. All over Florida, actually. Everywhere except the Panhandle. My parents moved around a lot when I was a kid. When I was 12, the same year I put on my Lord and Savior in baptism, my grandfather died and my parents moved up to Jacksonville to be closer to my grandmother.

We started going to church with Edna. She is a really sweet older woman who loves hugs! She had a grandson, LJ, that would visit occasionally. After he would visit, she always told me, "I want you to marry my grandson someday." I had to admit, he was quite cute. He was also very shy and wouldn't say much. I didn't think he'd ever be interested in me!

Time passed, I graduated high school, went away to college for a year, but decided to move back home. About the same time, LJ started coming to church on a regular basis. We started hanging out in December. By the end of January we were dating, and by March we were engaged. We married in September of the following year.

Look at the babies!! This was us the Easter after we got married.

A little over two years later, we were surprised and thankful to be expecting our first child. Arianna was born in July. Almost a year exactly after Arianna was born, we found out Jonas would come in February. We thought our family was complete.

LJ, Jonas (14m), Arianna (2y9m) and I on the Monorail to the Magic Kingdom, April 2010

Not long after that picture was taken, I had a wombache. I wanted another baby. LJ and I discussed this for about 30 seconds, then decided we wanted to try for a third child. Thirty seconds after that (give or take 28 days), we were pregnant! Josiah was born via a vaginal birth after 2 cesareans (VBA2C). To read about his birth, check out my other blog at Road2VBA2C.

Mommy's littlest man! This was taken about 1 hour after birth.

Five days after Josiah was born, I had the scare of my life. I was extremely fatigued, retaining water, and felt horrible. I took my blood pressure, which was fine. My pulse was not. When you go to the ER with a pulse in the 30s, they tend to work on you pretty fast. Fast Forward two of the worst days of my life (away from my newborn, pumping and dumping milk, horrible headache from medicines to get my heart working right), they assumed it was fatigue from childbirth. So, ready or not, we were done having babies!

I don't think we could ask for more wonderful kids!

I couldn't ask for better kids. They are my life, my world, my reason for dragging my butt out of bed in the morning. My blog is called "Attached To My Kids" because that is what I am. I don't work outside the home (although I am actively looking into non-pyramid scheme ways to make money from home without sacrificing time away from my kids). I homeschool (at least I will--Arianna starts kindergarten this fall). When we go out, we usually all go out together. Except for my weekend trips to the grocery store. Usually I like to go by myself. It's clearing. When we're all out together, I'm usually wearing the baby. I breastfeed. Josiah turns 1 this month, and I don't plan on stopping any time soon! Our boys are intact (uncircumcised). We co-sleep. This means that on any given night, we have between 3 and 5 people in our bed before morning. The older two typically start out in their bed, but sometimes end up in our bed. The baby is still nursing, so we have a crib/co-sleeper next to our bed for easy access during the night. He is quite accustomed to waking, crawling over to me, nursing, and falling asleep next to me.

So now you know me. You know my reasons for living. Welcome!