quadruplet c-section recovery

A gentle disclaimer to any mamas-to-be out there who may have stumbled upon this post: Let me first preface this by saying my experience was an exceptional one and not at all the norm. If anything, it is very unlikely that your outcome will look anything like mine so please please PLEASE do not let this story scare you.

While I know it might still scare some readers out there, I did want to be sure to document this part of my story anyway. My situation might be uncommon, but it’s not impossible and I do know that there are others walking through something similar right now. I felt completely alone and isolated during this time in my life and kept mostly to myself about it then, but it’s my hope that my words might reach someone who needs to hear them now. So with being said, let’s get into it.

As you can imagine, pregnancy with multiples is bound to wreak a bit of havoc on the body and for me that is the understatement of the century. I pretty much put myself on modified bedrest from 16 weeks on, but despite my best efforts my cervix started shortening right around the 20 week mark. The next day I went in for emergency surgery and my doctor performed something called a cerclage. If you’re unfamiliar with the term, a cerclage is essentially a procedure that stitches the cervix shut. In turn, it can help prevent pre-term labor which is exactly what it did for me. It was terrifying and came with plenty of risks of its own, but I was genuinely just so grateful that my doctor was willing to perform it in the first place as it can be quite controversial depending on your provider. I whole heartedly believe it’s what allowed the babies to stay put for as long as they did and got us to 30 weeks and 4 days. The time in between was still a challenge and I can still remember the pain I was in from my skin stretching to accommodate all that it did. 4 babies. 4 sacs. 4 placentas. It’s truly a miracle my small frame was able to do what it did and I will never take that for granted.

I share all of this because it’s relevant to my recovery and for me that started with the removal of the cerclage. Once the babies were here safely and my c-section incision was closed up, my doctor still had to go in and remove the cerclage. It was painless and took all but a minute, but I guess what I’m trying to illustrate here is that my body has been put through a lot. Pair all of that with around the clock pumping, stressing about 4 premies in the NICU plus a confused older toddler at home, and it’s no wonder that my immune system was compromised. Right around the 2 week mark when I knew I should have been starting to improve, my health started to decline. I could hardly stand, my abdomen was hot, and I couldn’t make any contact with the incision site without being in excruciating pain. I was quickly diagnosed with cellulitis and put on an antibiotic but it was unfortunately too late. Later that day while at the NICU, I was holding a baby and kept asking the nurses if they smelled what I did. They brushed it off and said it was likely a baby but I couldn't shake it. All of a sudden I felt a strange sensation and reached down to my incision site through my gown. It was wet and I knew. The smell was not a baby. It was me and it was leaking. And I knew that it was bad.

I was quickly rushed down to my doctor who confirmed I had an aggressive infection trying to make its way out of my body. The build up was so significant that it had created an opening in my incision and I was told it would have to be cleared out immediately. They did their best to remove it in the office and said they’d continue working for as long as I could tolerate the pain without medication but it was agonizing and I was mortified. They finally agreed it would be best to bring me to the ER so that we could secure a room and anesthetics to provide me with some relief. My anxiety was out of control and I was terrified so they suggested a “twilight” sedation which failed. Ketamine. Phentonyl. Propopol. I was maxed out and the doctors were shocked I was still awake but I was. It wasn’t pleasant and likely contributed to my fears around anesthesia, but they quickly cleared out the rest, put me on a heavy dose of antibiotics, and sent me back into recovery.

I was greeted by my doctor and lactation consultant who broke the news to me that I would not be able to give the babies my pumped milk while on the antibiotics, that I could not see the babies until infectious disease cleared me to do so, and that I would also not be discharged to go home to my oldest until further notice. It was crushing and I will never forget the sadness that overcame me. Pumping was the only thing I felt I could do to care for the babies and my one sense of control was suddenly ripped away from me. The worst part was that in order to maintain my supply I had to continue to pump on a strict schedule only to pour it down the drain. Not only that, but I was just a floor below my babies who I could not see while also away from my oldest who was confused by mommy’s sudden disappearance… again. I was exhausted. Defeated. And miserable.

After the first night I was then greeted by a wound care specialist who introduced me to something called a wound vac. It’s a large device that covers your wound and helps drive any remaining infection out while simultaneously helping it heal. She got me set up with it and I fortunately had a good response. After just a few days she was able to remove it but informed me that my incision would remain open for the next several months, and that I’d need to have it cleaned and packed professionally 3x a week. Those days in the hospital were some of my darkest and the weeks and months that followed came with their fair share of struggles too. Despite all that my body had done for me to bring these four precious lives into the world, I was still angry with it for giving up and being too weak to fight the infection off on its own. I felt like a failure. I felt dirty. I felt embarrassed. And I felt alone.

But guess what? I got better. My wound eventually closed. My babies eventually came home. And now here I am just 2.5 short years later preparing for a tummy tuck (!!!) when I was just the sick girl in the hospital bed who thought she’d never get out of there let alone be talking surgery again. When we are in the thick of our struggles it’s common to think they will never pass but they can and they usually do. We are much stronger and capable of so much more than we often give ourselves credit for. Whether it be a miserable post c-section infection or a bad break up, I hope this somehow helps to remind you that we can do hard things!!! The sun will shine again and I’m here for you every step of the way until it does.

XO,
Lindsay