My Mission

Oliver's Hospital Stay

The three days after Oliver's delivery were some of the hardest days I think I have ever experienced, and it's all because of a mother's selfless and unfaltering love for her son. I just simply could not give up.

Day 1
Monday, January 31st

After Oliver was born at 5:12AM, they had to remove the placenta, and stitch me back up. None of which I could feel. During this time, Matt got to hold Oliver and snuggle with him, and show him to me, and basically bond in an incredible way that not a lot of father's get to experience. Since it was not an emergency C-section, and there was no distress, he just got to snuggle. And learn about this new frightening world, without having to be whisked away.

He was weighed and measured in the operating room. Then when everything was done, they wheeled me into a recovery room where they checked him out further, did reflex tests and things, while I regained feeling. And incision pain began to set in. Then I got to hold him finally, for the first time, and I was overcome with love and awe at this incredible little boy in my arms.

We tried breastfeeding, and Oliver latched on quickly, but wasn't the best sucker. The nurses explained that since he had been in 3-minute-labour for 24 hours, he was really exhausted and thus simply didn't have the energy to do that kind of sucking he ought to be doing.

Since I was in pretty rough shape after the surgery, Matt had to learn pretty quick how to be a daddy. He had never even held a baby before, and he had to learn how to change a diaper without assistance, how to rock a baby, how to wrap a baby. And he was incredible.

After recovery, about 2 hours, I was wheeled into the room that was supposed to be the room that we would be expected to spend the next three days in. When we got there, I could not believe what was happening.

Now, when we arrived at St. Boniface, we told them that we would like to spend $80 a night, and have a private room. The private rooms at St. Boniface are like deluxe hotel rooms, so I was pretty excited. But, the room they wheeled me into was far from a hotel room...

It was a cubicle, made out of curtains, in a giant room being shared with 3 other women! There was not even enough space for a chair, or the baby's bed! Just my bed, a tiny night stand, and a little wooden low-backed armchair, thrust up against the nightstand in such a way that a person would not even fit. We had to drape the curtains over the baby's bed, and "extend" the room in that way. We didn't even get a window. Minutes after we were put here, a nurse came in and explained that the entire postpartum ward was under construction. And that when the construction was all done in a couple of months, those rooms were going to be gorgeous! Not that I cared about that at ALL at this point. She then explained that Matthew was not allowed to sleep in the bed with me, since I had gotten a C-section, and he was not allowed to sleep on the floor. Only in the little wooden, low-backed arm chair. Then the nurse left. And we both bawled our eyes out.

There was no way we could spend the next three days in this closet. Neither of us had slept yet, and Matt was coming to terms with the fact that he still couldn't sleep. This chair... it was not sleep-in-able. So he basically sat in it, sideways, folded his arms over the side of my bed, and lay his head on his arms. And hunched over like that, he finally got a moment of rest, as did I.

A little while later, some family came to visit, but we were still feeling really discouraged. Not a single thing had gone as planned so far, and we just couldn't take any more hits. Shortly after, as Matt rested some more, a nurse came in and held up a little note with some pen writing on it, a finger over her mouth in a "Sssh" fashion. It said "I will move you to a better room when one becomes available." Then she snuck out. I didn't know what to think, but I was excited.

About an hour after that, she came back, and told the family that was visiting to quietly help us move our things. And so everyone, as quietly and quickly as possible, grabbed armfuls of gifts and suitcases, and pillows, and flowers, and snuck over to another room. Then, the nurse helped me painfully walk to that room after them. And when I got there... I could have cried from joy.

It was a room for four people, divided down the middle by a large bathroom, and curtains. But on the half I was put in, I was not sharing with anybody. Across the way, the patients were side by side, but not me... all to myself! And there was a great big window streaming sunlight in at last, and a big comfy armchair that folded out into a bed! Tons of space, peace and quiet, and comfort. I was so happy! This incredible nurse must have somehow made this happen for us, I was so grateful. (And we didn't even have to pay for it!) We were unofficially in a private room, and I know this, because people kept getting directed to the other room we'd started in, and then rerouted to the new room. Suddenly, things were looking up.

The rest of the day, family came to visit, and Oliver and I continued to try the breastfeeding thing, although it was quite discouraging, lots of crying and fighting with each other. But the nurses continued to encourage us to try, so we did. And then while he slept, I slept. And when he cried, Matt walked with him and rocked him, and sang to him. We didn't sleep much that night.

Day 2
Tuesday, February 1st

The nurses came in to check me out again, remove my catheter and IV, and talk to me about the baby quite early in the morning. They explained that typically they expect a baby to lose 3 or 4% of its body weight in the first 24 hours. However, Oliver had lost 7%, and they were concerned. Apparently, his lack of sucking power meant that he wasn't actually getting much when he was breastfeeding. We continued to try the breastfeeding thing, but it was just getting harder. Due to his exhaustion, which lasted a long time, not only was he not sucking properly, but now he wasn't even latching properly. I got really very sore, and even more discouraged. And it made it even harder, because the nurses were SO concerned with him eating, that they were forcing him on me while he screamed and cried, and they all had different breastfeeding styles, opinions, and tips. And they were forceful, and stressed me out. So every time Oliver and I were together, it was a negative experience. I still hadn't gotten to have the happy "I have a baby!" moment, due to all of the stress.

That day was unbelievably hard. By the evening, they were so worried about his weight, etc, that they suggested supplementing with formula. I absolutely did not want to do this, but the nurses assured me it would all work out. So I allowed it. But since he wasn't able to take a bottle, due to nipple confusion potential, we tried slipping a straw in next to my nipple while he ate, with the other end going into a bottle of formula. So that he was getting breast milk and formula, which was supposed to make feeding sessions more efficient.

This technique really did not work out well at all. And just caused more stress. And discouragement. I was in so much pain and discomfort, I was worried about my little boy, I was healing from major surgery so I couldn't even get up to hold him when he cried, or change his diapers or anything, and my nipples were on fire from pain.

That night the nurses finger-fed Oliver from bottles of formula while I pumped, and they sometimes threw that colostrum in with the formula. (Finger feeding involves taping a tiny tube to the side of one's finger, and inserting it into the baby's mouth to suck. The other end goes into a bottle containing the food.) Pumping was also incredibly painful.

We could not believe how different everything was from how we expected. And didn't know how much more we could take. The nurses were even starting to talk to us about exclusive formula feeding. Putting the idea in our heads of giving up on the breastfeeding thing. And we even briefly discussed it. I think any other couple, especially our age, would have done it. Would have just said "Give him a bottle." But I was determined, because I know how important breast milk is for a baby. And switching to formula would have been just another C-section for me, in a way. Another unideal outcome after a long journey of trying without result. I just didn't think I could handle another "fail" like that.

I spent a lot of time crying. But I told myself it was all for my sweet little boy.

Day 3
Wednesday, February 2nd

I continued to try and pump, while Oliver was getting formula. We tried the breast feeding thing again, periodically, with not too much luck. That afternoon we finally got to meet with a lactation specialist named Susan, who really was the most incredible woman I think I've ever met. I owe her so much.

She came into the room, and helped me get set up for breastfeeding. She propped me up with pillows and made me comfortable. Then she held the baby for a while, and ran her gloved finger around his mouth, trying to figure out whether he could eat now or not. And she asked me about how the labour went, and how I was doing. And I told her, and I cried. She took one look at me, and one look at the baby, and said "Okay, this is what's going to happen. I'm going to take off baby's clothes, and we're going to do some skin-to-skin time." She put him against my chest, on his chest, and lay his head down beneath my head. Then she lay us back and made us comfortable, tucked the blanket in around us, and said "You two are going to bond now. You are going to enjoy your baby. And I'll come back in a bit!" And she left.

That was the first moment I actually got to enjoy my beautiful son. Matt sat next to us, and played some music on my iPad, while I snuggled little Oliver, and I mean really snuggled him, for the very first time. And I cried tears of joy, as I felt his little heart beating against mine. And I got to appreciate him. Really smell him, and feel him, and take him in. Our first positive encounter together, and it was incredible. I'll never forget it.

She was back about an hour and a half later, and we decided we were ready to try the breastfeeding thing again. She explained to me that the breast should be a positive space, and no negativity should ever be around it. That baby should not have been put on while he was screaming, and that now we were going to set things right. She observed as we tried to make it work again, and she supported me so to not get discouraged. He latched, but still couldn't quite suck properly. She explained that he was probably STILL tired! And that after such a long and hard labour, any baby would be. So she brought the pump back in, helped me adjust it so it didn't hurt quite so bad, and then taught Matthew how to finger feed him formula, while I pumped.

And for the rest of the day, every 2 hours Oliver and I tried to breastfeed. And if he got it, then that's how he ate. And if he didn't, which was most of the time, then I pumped while Matthew finger fed him, either the colostrum that I had pumped prior, or formula. Finger feeding is not an easy task, by the way. It takes 3 or 4 hands, and a lot of juggling and setting up, and a cooperative baby. So it was tough, going through this whole complicated process every two hours all through the night. But we kept at it.

And this was going to be our going-home plan. Susan told us that we would probably have to rent a pump (Base cost $50 plus $5 rent per day!) and continue this process for a couple of weeks, until he finally got it. But we were prepared to do it, to go through this hardship as long as it took to make this work.

And I think we proved a lot of nurses wrong. I think they saw how young we were, and a lot of them were betting against us. But we kept at it, and impressed them all with our determination.

Day 4
Thursday, February 3rd

The day we were going to go home. And we did not feel ready. I was still recovering from surgery, could barely stand up, or walk for that matter, and feeding was still tough.

My milk finally came in, though. And frightened Matt. I was a regular Pamela Anderson. Heck, I was a little frightened. Yikes!

We continued the feeding plan throughout the morning, and got to meet up with the lactation specialist again, just before lunch. She observed the feeding again, but this time she brought along a silicone nipple shield to try.
A nipple shield is basically a flexible soft silicone cover that goes over the nipple, and areola, and it extends the length of the nipple a little bit. It has little holes in the tip to release the milk, and the milk pools in the end, and then gets into the babies mouth whether he's sucking really well or not.

Oliver took to it right away. And Susan was so impressed with how my milk had come in, and was flowing regularly, and Oliver was sucking like a pro, that she basically said "My work here is done. You don't need a pump, just this. And stick to it! One day, he won't need it anymore." She gave me a hug, and I told her she was my hero. And she looked me in the eyes and said "No, my dear. You are mine." And that was it.

It was a breakthrough moment for Oliver and me, and it happened just hours before we left the hospital, praise the Lord!

We dressed Oliver in his adorable going-home outfit, and left just after lunch! To begin our new adventure as a little family, all on our own!


*Oliver and I used the shield for about a week and a half at home, and then one day I just decided "Heck, I'm going to try without it." And he latched right away, with no difficulty, and sucked like a champ. He didn't even need to be weaned off of it. And we've never used it again!

I don't know if he'll ever fully understand what his daddy and I went through for him, but I know that he is 100% worth every hard minute. Now that he's already almost a month and a half old, I'm glad I didn't give up. People kept telling me it gets easier, it gets easier, but I didn't believe them. And now I know it's true! I just thank God every day for the strength he gave me to soldier on, and for the amazing husband he blessed me with.

A tough start, but I know we are in for an amazing journey!