Monday, February 14, 2005

Parenthood (ongoing) 4

It's been a bit since I last updated.

I'm in the hospital right now with Maisy. I just now figured out the hospital's nonsensical telephony setup and have successfully smuggled my way online. Maisy is trying to sleep in the bed, but the nurses (all but two of them are mean mean mean) won't leave her be for any longer than ten minutes. We had the baby two nights ago. Cesarean because of too many complications to get into just now. Jesus. This hospital pisses me off. A vast majority of the issues we ran into could have been avoided had they read the last ultrasound properly (it was taken the day we went to the hospital to have the kid, three days ago). So, all said and done, everything went wrong wrong wrong and I've been emotionally spinning for the last 48 hours or so. Maisy is worse off, having given birth (surgically). We just want to fucking go home now. But we can't. They won't let us, so we're stuck here. Maisy is doing amazingly well and they said they'll probably let us go tomorrow morning. However, they keep fucking with Painter (that's the baby). Every twenty minutes or so, they come in, stick a needle in the bottom of his foot, fuck with the I.V. buried in the top of his hand, and make him cry until they leave. Maisy has had no sleep because of this, and she's beyond cranky- She's something else now... something mean and worse than cranky. The baby was a brute. 11 pounds 4 ounces (he's already burned off some of it, as is normal). Maisy was in horrible back-labor for exactly 24 hours before they figured out the baby was behemoth-sized. This is what I refer to when I mentioned the ultrasound. They should have known from the ultrasound (taken only an hour before they started inducing the labor) that the kid was big. Too big. Now, the nurses say Painter's blood-sugar is a tad low, so they keep giving him sugar injections or whatever. After two days of sugar injections, they've begun saying he seems to have a fast heartbeat (no shit, you're making him mainline sugar, fuckers), and they might detect a murmur (this is actually fairly normal, but still scary), so he probably won't get released. I just want to punch anyone in fucking scrubs that I see. I want to leave. Maisy is going mad in here. And I don't blame her. It's like you want to do what you can, protect your kid, help out, and at least stay INFORMED of what they're doing, but it's impossible in a hospital like this. This morning, I went downstairs to get coffee and the nurse told Maisy to take a shower. Maisy did so and while we were gone, they came in and took the baby again. They didn't even bother telling Maisy so when she got out of the shower, she had to dress quickly and go looking for the baby again (we're afraid the nurses will fuck up and give him the wrong medication or any number of horrible things (this hospital has a very bad reputation in our town, however, it's also the only hospital around and if you end up needing a C-section, you're definitely going to have it in the hospital)). I'll upload a picture of the hospital soon, as well as the baby. I did get the Casio in here, but I forgot the cable so I can take all the pictures I want, but they're staying on the camera until I get home.

The News: Painter Steven-Michael Succre, born 11:23 pm in North Bend, Oregon, weighing 1l lbs 4 oz.

Shit, that's all right now. I'll update this more after I get my family out of this fucking place.

No comments: