One week and 3 days post op

The human body is amazing. 

first night home. Ouch.

I went in last Thursday for surgery. A little nervous, a little excited. I was prepared for pain, but NOT prepared for the sheer amount of pain I experienced. Right before I went under anesthesia, I told myself, "I am healthy. I am strong. I'm going to be okay." The next thing I knew I was being woken up in the recovery room with the doctors and nurses asking me questions. I think the first thing I said in my drugged state was, "Why did I do this???" SO. MUCH. PAIN. They assured me I would be happy in a few months for doing it. But I felt like I had been run over by a truck. Everything hurt. My body shook. I cried. They took my vitals. They asked if I had any clothes with me, and I said I had a robe in my bag. A robe?! Genius, they said. We should tell all our patients to bring one. I remembered thinking, "In all the surgeries you've performed, no one has ever worn a robe out of here?" They got me into a wheel chair, and 5 hours after walking in to the surgery center, I rolled out the door on my way home. They had estimated it taking a shorter time, so I'm thinking it was a little more extensive or harder than they thought it would be. I had umbilical hernia repair, diastasis repair (quilted my abs back together), mini tuck (didn't reposition my belly button, just pulled the loose skin down a bit), and breast augmentation.

I'm honestly not sure how Matt got me in the house after we got home. He got me in to bed. I couldn't  lay down on my own, sit up on my own, couldn't walk on my own, and was basically naked for the next two days minus the binder and bra they put on me after surgery. They would put a robe on top of me or around me if I needed. I borrowed a walker from my neighbors. That was helpful. The first two days, though, I couldn't get out of bed on my own. The best way for me to sit up was if I turned to my side, someone grabbed my hands crossed in front of me, and they gently pulled me up to sitting. Someone would watch me walk with the walker to the bathroom and back. I slept a lot. I was functioning at maybe 5-10% of my normal strength.

day 2 I was upright at least a little

The first night I passed out twice while at the toilet. Poor, poor Matt. Luckily he was right there with me. I thought I was doing a little better by Saturday. I think I was mostly sitting up and standing on my own by the end of the day, very labored and painful. I hate having to rely on someone just to go to the bathroom, so I was determined. Sunday morning at 5:30 I needed to use the restroom. I pulled myself out of bed and walked myself there with the walker. A few seconds after sitting down, I knew I was in trouble. "Matt, Matt, Matt! I need you!" He panicked and quickly made it in. He caught me on the toilet then tried to get me back to bed, but I went down again. Next thing I knew I was on the cold floor, sweating profusely, confused from waking up from some vivid dream. Matt said he felt like he just watched me die. My eyes were open, mouth slack, and I wasn't breathing for a few seconds. But, luckily I came around, he got me back in bed, and he could NOT go back to sleep. Poor guy only had about 3 hours of sleep that night.

the allergy rash and hives. It felt like poison oak or something. 

We called the doctor. I'm always a fall risk after giving birth, and I'm prone to passing out from heat stroke or other traumatizing events. He thought it sounded like vasovagal syncope. We tried increasing my electrolytes that day, and were more watchful about me doing things on my own, but luckily I didn't pass out any more after that. The next abnormal thing, though, was a rash. I felt it first on my arms, but over the course of the week it spread all over my arms, legs, and rear. It itched SO BAD. I felt like my body was on fire. I kept thinking, "This was not worth it. I was just too vain. This was not worth it." I got a steroid, but it is slow acting. Today is actually the first day I don't seem to have any rash left. Apparently I was allergic to something they used during surgery, but I won't know what till I do allergy testing with a dermatologist when I'm feeling better. Oh, and my back and front mid section would have random moments of shooting pain, pins and needles. I only had that for 2 days and haven't experienced that since. It may have been related to the rash, I'm not sure. But it felt internal rather than external.

I think this was after my first shower a few days in.
I sat on a stool in my shower while Matt helped soap me down and rinse me off.
Felt so good to be clean.

Day 6 after going to the doctor for my 1 week
and to check out my rash.

Every day I made a little progress. I kept setting new little goals. One day it was to my kitchen and back. One day was down 4 houses and back. Then to the stop sign and back. Around the church and back. On Thursday, one week after my surgery, I drove my kids half a mile to their school and back then took a 45 minute nap. haha. Don't worry, I hate taking strong meds, so I only took 2 pills of the oxycodone the first night and second morning, and then I decided I'd stick with Ibuprofen and Tylenol, so I wasn't on any drugs while driving. It was good enough for my c-sections, so I figured I didn't need anything harder than that. I hate the feeling of being on strong drugs. Then by Friday, a week and a day after surgery, I walked half a mile while at the church with my kids roller blading around me. Slowly. Very slowly. It was the first walk I tracked on my Garmin, and I just tried to keep my pace to a 25 minute mile because it wouldn't register slower than that. But I think it was actually a 32 min. mile pace that day.  Saturday I woke up and went on a walk by myself, determined to go just a little further and faster than the day before. I walked a mile in 22 minutes. I helped supervise my kids cleaning, and by noon I was spent for the day. By the time evening rolled around I was so exhausted.

Day 7 the rash looked bumpier and worse. Still itched.

I have had a hard time sleeping. I can't fall asleep or stay asleep most nights. Last night I did get to bed before midnight and didn't wake till 6, so that was better. But my emotional state has been up and down. Some moments I think, I've got this! My body feels so much better than the first 6 days. Those first 6 days I just wasn't sure if I made a huge mistake. I felt guilty, I felt depressed. I felt sad. I felt remorse. Couldn't I just have loved myself just as I was? But the thing is, I did. I can't really tell you why I feel so compelled to restore what I felt needed restoration. I don't know why psychologically I felt it was so important to feel like "me" again.

But by day 7, I started feeling well enough that I wasn't in a total state of regret. I can see the daily improvement. I feel like I will be stronger eventually. Honestly, the pain I felt a week after surgery is the pain I thought I'd be in right after surgery. But I was wrong.

I'm just going to think of my scar as a smile.

It's still kind of hard to tell what the final result will look like. His incisions are masterful though. And I scar really well, so I'm not worried. It's super low because they used my super low c-section scar as a starting point I think. My breasts are fuller and higher than I was expecting. It feels like when my boobs were FULL of milk, the point where I needed my babies to eat to relieve some pressure. The first few days the pressure on my chest was greater so it kind of hurt to breathe, but the pain of my stomach overshadowed it. I haven't really felt much pain in my chest. I think the pressure will lesson as the implants drop. I do have a little loose skin under my implant that looks funny right now, but I'm hoping my implants will just drop and settle right in for a perfect fit. We knew I was right on the edge of needing a lift, but we opted to not do it yet in hopes that we could minimize the amount of surgeries I was undergoing. So far I'm feeling pleased and hopeful. I feel like I can do this. I am healthy. I am strong. I will be okay.

A week after surgery with my binder, my own soft bra, and my drain bag.

I had mostly worn super loose clothes the first week, but I was running out of shirts so I went for my softest stretchiest fitted shirt. When Matt saw me he took a double take and was like, Uh that's not what I'm used to seeing. Hahaha. I'm going to have to make sure the position of my words are better before classes start. This shirt won't do for teaching anymore. Remember I'm still swollen and they are high. I'm thinking I'll end up about a large B or small C when I start wearing bras other than sports bras. Which is what I wanted. I didn't want anything larger.

Diastasis Recti continued - 2 more babies

9 or 10 years ago I first learned about diastasis recti (split abs) when I mentioned that my belly button used to be an in-y but after having 2 babies it was now an out-y. Someone suggested that might be a sign of diastasis recti. I checked, and sure enough, I had a sizable gap in my abs. After I had Edward, my third baby, I could fit 6 fingers in the hollow between my abs. With tons of specific and tedious work, and splinting for nearly a year, I got it to close to a 2 finger gap. Not quite the same as before, but good enough.

Well, after 2 more babies - 5 babies total, even after splinting, exercising, and specific tedious ab programs (I've tried 3 programs claiming to fix diastasis recti without surgery), my abs have a 3 finger gap and other issues. I've done about as much as I think anyone could do to fix it myself. It wasn't till last year that I discovered that I actually have an umbilical hernia as well (which is why my belly button never went back in) which is partially why I don't think I can close it on my own. As I've gotten leaner, fitter, and stronger, my belly has become more apparent and appears more bulgy when I'm not flexing, arching my back slightly, or sucking in.

After 3 years of thinking about it, last year I went through a looooooong year of soul searching, praying, talking to doctors, talking to friends who had done the same thing etc. trying to decide if it was a big enough deal to me to go ahead with plastic surgery to fix the hernia and repair my abs as well as have a breast augmentation (I mean, if I'm already under the knife, why not consider restoring those babies as well - I gave my body and my boobs to my babies for 10 wonderful years and now I'm ready for it all back). I listened to self love bloggers and therapists who promote acceptance of the new mom bod, it's natural, it's right, it's good, it's its own form of beautiful. And I agree. And yet, I couldn't put it behind me. So I kept talking, researching, and I wanted to be really sure that this was being done out of self love and not self hate. Because if I was doing it out of self-loathing or body hate, no amount of plastic surgery could cure that or fill that void.

I'm not doing this because I hate myself or my body. I'm not trying to be perfect, or even more beautiful. (Though, I've thought about this a lot- we do a lot of things to feel and look more beautiful. We get braces, have eye surgery so we don't have to worry about glasses, we buy nice clothes, we whiten our teeth, we wear makeup, we have hair stylists, get manicures, facials, etc) I came to the conclusion that I don't have to hate my body to want change. I quite love my body and lovingly want to restore some of what I can't restore on my own.

I was actually scheduled in December of last year and paid in full, but I woke up sick the morning of surgery. I couldn't put off my classes, so I decided to reschedule after my LPM semester was over. And last Thursday was my last recital for the season! So with that long winded tale, I'm back to surgery week, provided that nothing goes wrong with my health like last time. Fixing the hernia, sewing my abs back up, a mini tummy tuck, and breast augmentation. Thursday is the day. Ready or not, here I come.