I read the books, surfed the internet and talked up the doctors. I planned on blissfully working from home during maternity leave while the baby napped through the day. I had visions of spending late summer afternoons at Panera indulging in sandwiches and Wi-Fi with a cooing infant. Visiting Corey at work, bringing the baby along with some lunch. I stocked up on nursing supplies, assuming it would be natural and effortless. I figured, “Yeah, childbirth will be painful. But it’s only one bad day. After that day – the fun will begin.”

BOY. HOWDY. Was I wrong.

Even after the labor week that was scripted by Stephen King – things were still going wrong. When I went into the hospital for the incision infection/cellulitis/CT Scan/heart problems – I was prescribed the antibiotic Amoxicillin. Seven days later, on August 22nd, I would be covered in a full body rash. Turns out -  I was allergic to the antibiotic (and thus – penicillins now). So, I was once again put on steroids to combat the rash.

While I was on the steroids, I started having horrible stomach pains. There’s a host of adjectives I could use to describe the gastrointestinal fireworks the week had brought on…we’ll just say that I read several issues of Parenting, GQ and Wired cover-to-cover multiple times. By the time Sunday Aug. 29th rolled around, I could barely care for Elliott. A quick evening jaunt to Urgent Care produced a doctor who, after hearing what the previous three weeks held, said, “You have a heart rate of 142 (sitting), you’re severely dehydrated and probably belong in a hospital right now.” I begged her for something that would get me through the night – and she said that if I didn’t go to the hospital, then I had to follow up with my doctor the next day. As much as I didn’t want to visit my OBGYN again, I did. After 2 units of IV fluid in outpatient care and a couple of tests later…I was diagnosed with C. Difficile. In short, all of the antibiotics I had been on during the month had wiped out the good bacteria in my colon and all the bad bacteria was running rampant. Ironically, the solution was a bland food diet and more antibiotics. UGH. Fortunately, Corey’s mother came to help with the baby while I tried to recover.

At this point – my parents made an offer: come stay in Texas for a week or two. My parents and grandparents would help care for the baby and I could get more rest and a break from life. I gladly obliged. Though I knew I would miss Corey terribly (and I do), I just couldn’t handle any more outbreaks. We did the math. Every weekend in August, I was recovering or ill with something. 1 – Delivery, 2- Infection, 3- Allergic Reaction, 4 – C. Diff. So, we packed up Elliott’s clothes and necessities, I threw some clothes in a bag and we drove 13 hours from Bowling Green to Grand Prairie. While my parents (and other family members) were excited to see the baby, I was looking forward to a change of scenery and some rest. Elliott slept throughout the drive and has been a bit fiesty during his 2 a.m. feedings. Other than that, I’ve been resting and recovering while the torrential rain pours down on the metroplex.

The fact that I haven’t updated the blog after the blessed arrival should be the first sign that things did not go according to plan. Not my plans, at least. Maybe I have an arch nemesis somewhere who concocted the events that have unfolded since 5 a.m. August 6th. If that is the case – then things for my arch nemesis went off without a hitch. I’m still exhausted, achy and dehydrated -but I wanted to document everything that happened before it’s too late.

SPOILER ALERT: If you are pregnant, plan on becoming pregnant or know someone who may one day consider becoming pregnant – do not read any further. Having been recently pregnant – I know the desire to avoid delivery horror stories, opting instead for fearful optimism. The following, ladies and gentlemen, is not an uplifting delivery story. Don’t worry – the baby is healthy, vibrant and wonderful. The mother on the other hand – is a different story.

I’m going to forgo my usual commentary and just list the facts. I am exhausted and trying to maintain my health. Once you see how things go – you’ll understand the sparsity of language.

You may recall my previous post about PUPPs rash – which my doctor prescribed both an oral and topical steroid to make me feel a bit more human. I saw my doctor (M) on August 2nd – Corey’s birthday. In that appointment – she asked how I would feel about having a baby that Friday, August 6th (39 weeks, full term). I was excited and overwhelmed but said, “Yeah, let’s go for it.” I had been dilating for weeks. The plan was to break my water to see if that expedited labor. If not, then I would have a Pitocin drip. I had already told her I wanted an epidural.

On Friday, August 6th – Corey and I went to the hospital at 5 a.m. We got into our room at 5:30 and at about 6:30, they started the Pitocin. My doctor came in and broke my water (a very weird and surreal feeling, btw) at 8:30 ish. Around 10:30 or 11 I received the epidural – which made everything much more comfortable. By about 3 p.m. I was about 7 – 8 cm dialated and we thought we would have a baby by the time rush hour traffic started. Nope. As I progressed into the most intense phase of early labor around 5 or 6 p.m., dilating 9-10, the epidural wore off. I began vomiting and shaking – begging for a booster. They would administer two boosters in addition to the original epidural. This is important to remember.

From 6 to 8 p.m. it was nothing but pushing. HARD. Dizzy, hard pushing punctuated by vomiting and pleas for more pain killers. Some women have high thresholds of pain, I do not. But the doctors continued to administer pain relief. After two hours of pushing, my doctor said that it was in my best interest to have a C-section. I obliged, just wanting it to be over.

At 8:30 we wheeled into the operating room. It was freezing cold, but Corey was in there with me. I was so exhausted, I had my eyes closed and just nodded whenever the anesthesiologist said something. At 9:04 I heard the doctor exclaim, “That’s a BIG baby” and at 9:05 – sweet little Elliott was born.

After sitting in recovery for about an hour and a half – I was wheeled up to my post-partum room where our mothers and Corey were waiting. At the time, I felt fine. Elliott was brought in and I tried to nurse him on my right breast. I asked my mother to hold him so I could readjust. She picked him up out of my arms, and that was the last thing I remembered. I would wake up to about a nurse with smelling salts in my nose and 3 other nurses and my mom leaning over my bed telling me to open my eyes.

It seems I had blacked out, vomited on myself and stopped breathing after I handed Elliott to my mom. Corey and his mother went to notify the nurses and send Elliott to the nursery. For the next two hours, my mom kept telling me to stay awake and keep breathing. I would lift my head up, bulge my eyes to look at someone before my head would drop and I feel like falling asleep. During my few moments of lucidity, I would ask “What is wrong with me?” “Why do I feel like this?” “Am I going to die?” which freaked out the entire room. My doctor showed up and called in the anesthesiologist. He gave me three shots to try to undo the anesthetic. It should have only taken one. My heart rate was between 130 and 140 – similar to if I had been running on a treadmill. I made it through the night. Nobody in the hospital can (or would, to the point of writing this) be able to fully explain what happened.

Saturday, August 7th – In the hospital. Every nurse that came in my room throughout the day to check my vitals and administer medicine had “heard about me” and looked slightly terrified. What happened was far from normal. My vitals were not great. My heart rate was still far above normal. Blood pressure was on the low side. My HH level/blood count was extremely low. Healthy is around 11. My grandmother had an emergency transfusion at 8. I was at a 7.7. My doctor asked if I wanted a blood transfusion, I said yes. If you look at the previous post of photos in the hospital, you can clearly tell how pale and white as a ghost I was in some photos. I had retained a ton of fluid and was on IV antibiotics. I tried to nurse Elliott, who had a mild case of jaundice, with little success.

Sunday, August 8th – In the hospital. Trying to begin walking around. Still taking iron pills, pain killers and antibiotics. Very achy. Still looking pale, HH level still not good – even after one unit of blood. Elliott is still struggling to nurse. We’re both growing frustrated.

Monday, August 9th – Wake in the hospital – will be discharged after noon. Meet briefly with lactation consultant. Receive discharge paperwork and go home. Still swollen and maternity clothes that fit loose during pregnancy are snug post-partum. Still no color in my face. Come home and I’m barely able to do more than sit on the couch. I feel exhausted and like a shell of a person. I wonder, “If this is normal for new mothers, how does anyone survive?” There is no bliss and temporary adrenaline rush – only a lingering ache and sick feeling. Corey and my father leave around 7 p.m. to get a pizza. I burst into tears telling my mom that I don’t feel like I will be able to take care of this baby on my own. We call the on-call OBGYN (D) and the minute we say my name he says he’s already heard about my story. He orders us to go to the ER and he’ll place orders to keep me overnight and get a transfusion of blood. We all go to the hospital. The nursery loans us a bassinet. Corey is exhausted because he has been sleeping on a hospital recliner since the delivery so we send him home to get rest. I’m too weak to nurse Elliott without weeping – so I decide to start bottle feeding him formula so he doesn’t get sick. My dad goes out to procure bottles and formula. My mom watches the baby. They weigh me and the number is way higher than I thought it would be. I cry in frustration. I receive two units of blood.

Tuesday, August 10th – Feeling better than before, but it’s more akin to a zombie feeling better than being dead. My doctor (M) comes to visit. She wants to keep me another night for observation. Says she could give me one more unit of blood – but that would be it. I say that I would rather go home feeling good than ‘good enough’. Elliott is fussy and we try meeting with the lactation consultant again. We are worried because his diapers are rarely wet or dirty. When they are wet, they are dark and concentrated. To cure the jaundice, you have to flush it out of his system. More formula. I send the entire family home to sleep for the night. This is Corey’s night to take care of the baby on his own. He does so like a champ…laying the ground for him being an awesome dad in the upcoming days.

Wednesday, August11th – Discharged from the hospital in the morning with enough time to make it to Elliott’s first pediatrician appointment. His bilirubin level is a 16. A level of 18 means the baby will stay in the hospital and get UV treatments under a lamp. When we first knew he was jaundiced, the doctor warned us that it will get worse before it gets better. We are told to return the next day for another test. If the next day’s number plateaus or goes down, we’re okay. If it goes higher, then we’ll have to look at other treatments. I go home and spend time with Corey and my parents. Elliott is incredibly fussy all night.

Thursday, August 12th – This is the only day where I will wake up and go to bed in my own home. We go to the pediatrician. Elliott’s bilirubin level is a 14.3. The jaundice is going away. We’re relieved. We spend the day at home and I learn how much Corey is excelling at the parenting thing. I feel like I’m playing catch up. We watch ‘Death at a Funeral’ and my parents watch Elliott for the night so we can get some rest. Grandparents know how to work babies and he sleeps mostly through the night.

Friday, August 13th – Elliott celebrates his first week of life on what was his original due date. I’m feeling okay enough to leave the house with Corey to rent some movies and bring home cupcakes for my parents. During ‘Date Night’ I start complaining about feeling really hot – assuming it is because the A/C hasn’t been keeping the house cool during the heat wave. We take my temperature. 100.4. Discharge papers say to call if there is a temperature over 100.4. I decide to wait, eat dinner, take a nap and see what we get. At 8:30 p.m. my temperature is at 101.7. Ugh. We call the on-call OBGYN – (D) who had I spoken to earlier in the week and knew about my situation. He tells me to come in – there’s concern that there may be internal bleeding and he’ll want a CT scan to make sure. My parents were supposed to leave for Texas early the next day, but decide to wait and stay home with Elliott. We call Corey’s mother and she’ll be coming to help. Corey takes me to the ER. ER was horrible. I’ve already had blood drawn, IV’s inserted and other tests run so much over the week I’m drained. After the lab work – we wait in an exam room for 2 hours before they take me for the CT scan. In the CT scan room, I hear Katy Perry’s “California Girls” playing at 1:30 a.m. I resent the world at this point. Corey stays overnight with me in the hospital room.

Saturday, August 14th – (D) visits in the late morning to discuss the CT scan results. There’s a hematoma in my uterus from the surgery suggesting that there may have been more bleeding during the C-section than was anticipated. There’s cellulitis around the incision on my abdomen. There’s a slight infection around the incision (not my fault) likely because I’ve been so sick and run down for the past week, my compromised immune system couldn’t handle it. I’m put on IV and oral antibiotics for the cellulitis and the incision. (D) says that the hematoma can resolve itself with time or be removed with surgery. Given recent events, no one really wants me to have more surgery. There was one other thing he noticed on the CT scan. He almost didn’t want to bring it up but did anyway – looking at the CT scan, he noticed what may be a pericardial effusion (fluid around my heart). At age 9, I had pericarditis, nefritis and gastroenteritis, so he seems bizarrely relieved to know that this was something in my medical history. He decides to send me to the cardiologist to have an Echo and EKG. The idea of cardiac problems worries everyone, especially when we thought I would be released that day. I will be kept in the hospital another day. At this point, I’m a wreck. I feel as though I have missed out on the first week of Elliott’s life and all the bonding that should bring. I’m depressed and frustrated. Talking to my parents (mother is an RN who has been discussing my situation with one of her nurse friends), it seems as though I will officially become a high-risk pregnancy in the future. Since I’ve already had a C-section, any future babies will be delievered via C-section as well. Since I had a horrific response to anesthesia, C-sections seem scary (though – there is some debate as to whether the extra epidurals influenced that as well.) Meet with cardiologist later in the day, he seems to think that the CT scan just picked up scar tissue from 20 years ago and isn’t immediately worried. I’m mentally and emotionally drained. I send everyone home for the night. I don’t get much sleep.

Sunday, August 15th – Still in the hospital. Parents reluctantly leave for Texas, want me to call with updates. (D) okays Corey to bring Elliott up to visit and orders me to get out of bed and walk around more. More lab work. An EKG is done. More antibiotics. I begin to have severe gastrointestinal distress – (i.e. diarrhea and vomiting). I send Corey and Elliott home and will call with updates. This worries (D) and he takes me off fluid and food for the rest of the day and I’m told to “save” whatever I throw up. The nurse tells me that I will probably have to spend the night in the hospital. I’m in tears. Again. I don’t throw up any more but still feel crummy. Cardiologist visits and wants me to meet with him in 4 weeks. Corey returns. (D) comes to visit and wants to talk. I haven’t had a fever spike since being readmitted. He thinks I would do better to rest at home. He prescribes oral antibiotics, anti-nausea pills and Zoloft…believing that the combination of everything that has gone wrong over the past nine days, coupled with – you know – going home to a new baby, was causing me so much stress I wasn’t able to physically recover. I’m discharged around 6:30 p.m. I’m shocked that it is still light out. That’s how much I was in the hospital – I lost track of when it was daylight/night. I go home, eat and take my medicines. My heart is pounding through most of the evening. The same would happen Monday night and I’m considering trying to break up my medication schedule.

It’s Tuesday, August 16th. If I don’t get readmitted to the hospital tonight, it will be the longest stretch of time I have been home since Elliott has been born. Having a baby is rough. Having this many complications afterward is horrifying. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. I am relieved that Elliott is a healthy, happy baby. He only cries if he needs a diaper change or bottle. Otherwise, he’s content. I am thankful that Corey and our parents went above and beyond in taking care of Elliott and I. I don’t know what I would have done if I were flying solo throughout this whole ordeal.

I am also disappointed. I know there are few guarantees in life and that plans change. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I feel robbed. What was supposed to be a happy and exciting time became fraught with stress, turmoil and frustration. To this day, none of the doctors have been able to provide a definitive explanation for why everything went down the way they did. They have literally said, “I don’t know what happened” which doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence. It’s been very difficult to return home and not only cope with what has been a nightmare of health problems for me and the need to recover – but take care of a newborn as well. I’m lucky that Elliott is as wonderful as he is. But everyone is exhausted. Especially Corey – who still has to go to work. Without all the help we’ve received, I don’t know where I’d be.

Writing all of this has worn me out – but I needed to document it before too much time had passed. I wish I had some pithy or insightful lines to end on, but I don’t. Maybe this post is a bit of a bummer, but it also has a happy-ish ending. I’m home with the baby that I’ve been waiting for. I’m just hoping that I get back up to speed to enjoy him more.

Schneider Hall seems to be an important fixture in my life. I spent the entirety of my sophomore year in the building. It was where I turned on a TV the morning of 9-11 to see the events of the day unfolding. It was where I found out that my grandmother was going to pass away. It’s where I made new friends. It’s where a stream of those friends called at 3 a.m. to use the restroom the night they camped out on the lawn of Potter Hall in hopes of getting a room in the renovated directional halls on campus.

Since coming back in 2007, it’s the place where I’ve grown personally and professionally–a place where I have the good fortune of meeting hundred of the state’s finest young people through Nerd Camp and the Academy. It’s also the place where Stephanie and I celebrated our wedding reception. (Some folks say it’s the nicest the Fourth Floor Common Room has ever looked.)

Tuesday, August 3, marked another celebration in the building. Our friends and coworkers at the Academy and The Center hosted a baby shower for Elliott. We’ve been so thankful not only for their gifts but also their support and encouragement leading up to his arrival and in the days since. We look forward to him meeting these dear friends some time late next week.

Here’s hoping that some day Elliott will enjoy time in Schneider Hall as well as a Nerd Camper and Academy Class of 2028 student.

The Alderdice household is a big fan of Jeff “Action” Woods, sportscaster extraordinaire, good pal, and just a generally great guy.

Jeff isn’t a fan of the fact that I’ve nicknamed him “Action” and petitioned him on several occasions to adopt the moniker on air.  Friends and gentle readers, I believe we can make that and more happen for old Jeffrey.

I sent myself an email reminder exactly one year ago so I wouldn’t forget about this. Nominations have begun for the 2010 Best of Bowling Green.  The contest recognizes favorite restaurants, stores, and individuals in the city of Bowling Green, Kentucky.

Most of all, I want to see Jeff “Action” Woods as a finalist for Category #104 — Best Local TV Personality.

Do you know who won this category last year?  Radar the Weather Dog.  I’m not even kidding.  A dog beat out a real-life human being for best local tv personality.  Had Jeff been nominated, this would not have happened.

Never again.

Here’s why I’m asking you to do this: Jeff has been one of my dearest friends since he helped me move into my dorm room sophomore year–when I didn’t even know him.  He was my roommate in college and suffered all manner of degradation at my hand.  For some reason, he even agreed to be a groomsman in my wedding.  He’s one of the nicest guys in the world, honestly.

I am asking all of my friends to participate in the nomination process.  There are lots of categories; however,you need only vote for 104. BEST LOCAL TV PERSONALITY. Please enter Jeff “Action” Woods in field number 104. You will have to cycle through a few pages to get to the page with this category.  It’s kind of annoying, I know, but there is no direct link for the page.

It’s that simple.  Please vote early and often.  To make the final voting round, Jeff must be one of the three vote-getters during the nomination phase.

Look how happy the little fella is in the photo below.  Imagine how happy he’ll be if he wins.

The only thing good about a stay in the hospital such as this is that it brought Elliott into our world.  The journey began at 5 a.m. on Friday and finally wrapped up shortly after noon today.  Granted, there will be trips to visit Dr. Baker, our pediatrican and other stops along the way in the days ahead but I’d be happy if that was our last stay in a hospital for a while.

For the time being, though, we’re happy to have Elliott at home.  Lily, on the other hand, is a bit apprehensive about having something else tiny in the house; however, she seems to be warming up to the little fella.  Both mother and child seem to be settling in well, though each have had a couple of naps today.

Until Stephanie writes an account of the last few days, enjoy these photos from our last day at the Bowling Green Medical Center and our first day as a newly-minted family at 806 Brownstone Way.

For folks who know me, there are three things that I enjoy immensely: the charming sound of a ukulele, the nomy deliciousness of cake, and the delightful cadence of an English accent.

Boing Boing had a shout out to the song stylings of Rocky and Balls.  While the name is a bit lacking, these duet darlings from the UK combine a bit of wordplay with simple melodies.  My personal favorite of their songs is “Love Cake,” which can be found below.

Like what you hear? Check out their website for more tracks.  You can also follow them on Twitter.

Like all good memes, Dodson quickly became a product line.[twitter

Ah, the local news.  As mainstream, national journalism gives way to the power of the internet and the blogosphere, it seems as though local media is the only traditional avenue that maintains some form of relevancy.  After all, local media know their audience, stories, and needs in a way that a national media outlet is simply unable to provide.

Granted, there are numerous professionals working in television and print in newsrooms across the country who are consummate professionals.  Every now and then, though, you have a Chris Allen fondling a breast cancer graphic on camera.  Media professionals make bad decisions all the time.  Even after serving as the Dean of the White House Press Corps, Helen Thomas found herself forcibly retired after inflammatory comments.

Thanks to the internet, a highly local story can become global internet fodder in a matter of hours.  Take the story of Antoine Dodson, the latest example of a local news story gone viral.  When an intruder allegedly broke into his sister’s apartment and attempted to sexually assault her, Antoine helped scare off the attacker.  A story such as this meets the “smell test” for local news: it’s timely, it’s interesting, and there’s a human angle.

Here’s the problem.

Consider you are the reporter, editor, or producer of the nightly news.  What should you do in this instance?  To the best of our knowledge, the story was not made up.  Second, they interviewed the parties directly involved in the event.  Given the fact that an attacker could be on the loose in a local neighborhood, the station has a responsibility to inform their audience of any potential danger.  The question I have to ask, though, is should they have aired the story as is?

Checking out the comments section of the original video, it comes as no surprise there is a large African-American audience and native Huntsville audience who feel as though the video casts their populations in a less-than-positive light.  It’s understandable.  Think about those times where a tornado rips through a local community.  Why is it that nine times out of ten that it goes through a trailer park?  Why is it always a trailer park?

The station could have simply reported the story as part of a block of news.  They could have used clips solely from the young woman who was attacked.  There are any number of ways the station could have covered the story; however, they went with the one that would have the most bang.  While I do believe it falls into a gray area, the station reported the story, with the major players, and in a timely manner.  Dodson was obviously and understandably upset.  The statements were his feelings and opinions in the moment.  He was, perhaps, neither sensible or eloquent.  That’s the risk you run when you talk on camera, though.  Perhaps you simply chalk it up to a lesson in awkward.

That doesn’t mean you go back to the buffet for a second helping.  After Dodson’s comments (and the station’s video) went viral, the station did a second interview with him.  This second time, the story focused on his newfound internet stardom.  Check it out.

Props to Antoine for cleaning up and portraying himself in a more positive light.  Shame on the station for doing a story about their story.  At this point, the station’s actions become self-serving and promotional.  The almost self-righteous tone of the reporter as she explains the justification is more than off-putting.  It’s as if to say, “we probably shouldn’t do another story on this but, forget it, let’s go ahead.”  She plantively justifies the station’s follow-up story despite objections from the community: “To that I say, censoring people like Antoine is far worse.”

Maybe, but exploiting people like Antoine is far, far worse.