On November 21st, at 8:31am, Kolton Charles Rasko made his entrance into this world. He weighed in at 7lbs 11oz, and was 21 inches long. His Daddy was on hand to capture these photos.
I wish I could say the C-Section in and of itself was uneventful, but that wouldn’t quite be the truth. To put it briefly, many members of my family (including myself) have a high tolerance for painkillers. For instance, when I had a root canal years ago I had to be given double the usual dosage of Novocain. The same goes for my last c-section when an epidural proved ineffective, and I had to receive a spinal tap (? I’m not a physician but I think that’s what it was). My boyfriend can attest that I rarely take Tylenol or Ibuprofen anymore because it scarcely has any effect on me.
I tried repeatedly to inform the nurses, the anesthesiologists (& everyone basically) of this, but apparently was written off as some kind of a wuss. (This continued to be a recurring theme throughout my hospitalization, despite the fact that I waived practically all pain meds for the last 3 days of my day). At any rate, I started experiencing extreme pain on the OR table, and they had to actually put a stop to things, and put me completely under. From the beginning, I can honestly say this had been my worst fear. God forbid I ever need surgery again.
Thankfully Baby Kolton is perfect. Completely, absolutely perfect. In fact, he ended up being discharged before me! Because although he was completely healthy, within 24 hours I myself developed complications, which led to a series of endless tests before I was ultimately diagnosed with an ileus – basically blockage in the gut. I can honestly say the worst night of my life was when they stuffed an NG tube down my nose and throat, and pumped my stomach. At the same time, things were gushing out the other end and I ended up with a bed pan a few feet away, gagging and vomiting violently around the NG tube every time I had to move to use it. (I am the first to admit I have a horrible gag reflex). Pure. Torture.
My only hope in this whole situation was my OBGYN doctor (Dr S). There was another “hospitalist” (a stern-faced Russian woman known as Dr V) who also showed up a few times and she was horrid. She threw a fit when she discovered Dr S had ordered the NG tube removed, and threatened to have it put right back in (after she left the room I broke down in tears and threatened to walk out of the hospital then and there if she had anyone touch me again). She then ordered more tests, and issued orders completely contradictory to what Dr S, but thankfully these somehow failed to be communicated to the nurses and I managed to slip under the radar. The next morning Dr S made his rounds early in the morning as usual, and he cleared me to go before Dr V arrived.
At any rate, we are home now and everyone is doing well. I actually have a lot less incision pain this time around, which I credit to being so active throughout my pregnancy. I do tire fairly quickly, and I am already going a little stir crazy. I am already chomping at the bit to get back in the saddle, but am bound and determined to hold off for at least a few weeks. I have been out to the barn a couple times since getting out of the hospital and it’s safe to say that Pokey at least was happy to see me. Since he hasn’t been in regular work for some time, he has become ornery, insanely jealous of any attention given to Pearl, and just generally pushy and troublesome. Suffice to say, he is a horse that does NOT do well on pasture rest! He has always been this way to some extent, but I think it’s safe to say it has gotten worse since Siesta died. Although he and Pearl get along well, neither is particularly attached to the other. The big bay gelding in the neighboring pasture is instead of the object of Pearl’s affections, while Pokey seems to be seeking out human companionship instead.
Although I had intended to continue working with Pearl this spring (with the ultimate goal of taking her to a couple intro rides and an LD), I have recently found myself reconsidering. Despite his shortcomings (which include intentionally dumping my daughter a few weeks back – another story for another time!) Pokey will forever be my heart horse. And if he is in need of my time and attention, I can’t deny him that. Additionally, further research indicates that his weak stifle may be something we can get past. It would seem it often takes up to a year for a horse to heal from a stifle injury, and more often than not, it is actually helped by exercise. Pokey is a very active horse, and (more so than any other horse I’ve met) keeps himself fit in the pasture. It wouldn’t take much to get him back into shape.
At any rate, I’ve got a few weeks to ponder things. I won’t be back in the saddle until Christmas at the earliest. In the meantime I’m going to do my best to keep my restlessness at bay, and enjoy this time with my newborn baby while I heal up.