Proof that the universe has a sense of humor

Howdy, how've you been, long time, pull up a chair, sit a spell.

We're about to "GO THERE." Oh, yes, the TMI, the sordid details, the good, the bad, the gross. Ready? If so, join me, won't you? Consider yourselves warned....duly duly warned. We're about to enter uncharted territory on this here blawg.

This past Wednesday, my postpartum bleeding had turned to mere spotting of the darker red variety. Ah, looks like things were slowly returning to 'normal.' I figured a few more weeks of that and then we'd be done.

Fast forward to 8 p.m. this past Friday evening, I'm laying on my stomach (a position I haven't been in for more than 10 months now) in J's room, reading her a book, when all of the sudden I feel like I'm peeing my pants. That's the only way I can describe it, warm, pee-like, odd. So I up and jump to the bathroom adjacent to her room, where I drop my pants and am greeted by the brightest red gushing blood I've ever seen come from my body. After sitting there a few minutes, it relents, I get up, check the bowl and see a lovely piece of what I can only identify as tissue, about 2 x 3 inches. Okay, no biggie. It happens postpartum, flush, leave, think no more of it.

Fast foward to 5:15 a.m. later that night, and I'm woken up out of a sound sleep (well, as sound as it can be when the co-sleeper is on your side of the bed) by that feeling that I'm peeing myself again. My senses are on high alert and I all but sprint over the co-sleeper and into our bathroom. This time, I can feel that it's much worse. I barely make it to our toilet and as I'm in the process of dropping my pants, something I can only describe as feeling huge falls out of me and into the bowl, and in the process it sprays blood droplets on the walls, the bowl ring, and drips a few puddles onto the floor. In the initial spring to the bathroom, I bled through my pad and onto my clothes.

I sit there on the toilet helpless, wondering what the hell it was. I start wiping myself (which proves to be a dumb move 'cause then I can't see whatever it is that came out of me that is now under a mound of TP). I call for A, rousing him from sleep and he comes in. For a brief instant, he lets down his guard and I can see the fear in his eyes when he sees all the blood, but then it's gone. He gets his composure back in check and starts cleaning me and the bathroom up.

I get up but am instantly woozy by the sight of all this blood. Surely, this can't be normal, right? I go sit on the edge of our bed but feel like I'm about to either throw up or pass out or both. I go back to the bathroom and get on my knees near the toilet 'cause I'm about to hurl (now wouldn't that have been someting--throwing up in my own blood-filled bowl? I can't even imagine). After a few sips of cold water quickly brought to me by A, I feel a little better. I get back into bed and promptly call my OB's practice. I get a doctor on call who I haven't seen in two years.

He tells me that he'll call in some mis0ps0st0l because there must be some leftover tissue that my body is trying to get rid of. Hmmm...okay, I've heard and read alot from the lovely ladies in the Barren Bitches Brigade. I know this is not a drug to take lightly, I know it can have some side effects, I know it can cause pain, cramping--some of described it as akin to labor. Yes, I am not comfortable taking this drug without knowing for certain whether or not there is some residual tissue left in me. Call me a baby, a chicken, whatever. I'm terrified of all this blood and of a drug that could leave me in worse shape for a few days or worse, a few weeks.

Mind you, after each of these sudden bright red gushing episodes, my bleeding immediately tapers back off to the light spotting so I'm very confused but thinking that clearly something is wrong 'up in there.' Did a stitch rip open? Did I tear something? WTH could it be?

Fast forward to Saturday evening around 11 p.m. I get up to throw away a banana peel and whammo--same peeing my pants feeling. I run for the guest bathroom and A follows on my heels. I'm in there for a good 10 minutes or so, passing lots of tissue, dripping blood, etc. It's not pretty.

When I'm done, I realize I'm down to my last pad (yes, I know, what was I thinking? in all honesty, I simply forgot to get more earlier that day). So I send A out to the local Walgreen's to pick some up. I call my SIL quickly to give her the scoop on these gushing bleeds and she promptly tells me that she wouldn't take the med without a workup to know what we're dealing with--she tells me to get thee to an ER, stat. Alas, I can't go until A returns from the store because at least one person who knows infant CPR must be with Daniela at all times and my MIL, who's here for the weekend, does not know it.

Now, here's where it gets even more interesting. Not 10 minutes after A has left, I hear the unrelenting jingle-jangle of dog #2's collar as he scratches, shakes, does something in the other room. But then I realize the jingle-jangle is not stopping and I call him to me. He comes and it is clear that something is very wrong with him. He's constantly shaking his head from side-to-side, his rear leg is shaking uncontrollably and patches of hair here and there on his body are doing this crazy stand-up thing. He's been inside all evening, laying on his bed, so it's not like he got into something outside in the yard.

A few minutes go by and he's getting worse. I make a call to the emergency animal clinic and they want him brought in. Again, I'm trapped at home waiting for A before I can go to the ER for me and now before dog #2 can go the animal ER. Scratch that, I'm now trapped waiting for A to get home, then for him to go to the animal ER and get back home, before I can go to the ER.

And that's how I find myself walking into the ER (of the same hospital where I delivered Daniela) at around 1:30 a.m. that night. It's empty so I don't wait long to be called back. And yes, I went alone because A and his bad ass infant CPR self had to stay with Daniela (he and I took a quick course on it before she could be discharged from the NICU).

Six hours later, after much poking (bloodwork, IV) and prodding (transvag u/s and a lovely internal), my uterus is declared "free of remaining products of conception" and I'm given the all-clear to go home. My blood levels are all okay so I'm not losing too much blood. The guess is that there must have been something (PLACENTA--the gift that keeps on giving?) in my uterus and my body eventually cleared it out on its own, sometime before I went to the ER.

I hate to say it, but I actually got home after dog #2 did. Like me, they never did find out what was wrong with him. The ER vet thinks there is a possibility it might be (oh boy--wait for it) a type of cancer that releases histamines which is what caused all of his itching, scratching, twitching and the crazy stand-up hair thing (which was caused by hives). He has an appointment to see our regular vet later this week and have some lumps biopsied.

As for me, I haven't had any more crazy gushing bleeds since Saturday night's (knock on wood) and I'm scheduled to see my OB for a regular postpartum check up in 3 weeks. As a side note, I did call my OB (he gave me his cell phone # after the whole delivery/NICU thing) yesterday and tell him what had happened with me. He said not to take the mis0pr0st0l unless I had another bleeding episode. I gladly went with his advice and the med sits at the pharmacy still, waiting for a pick up that I hope will not happen.

You know, if it weren't for the already-crazy post-pregnancy hormones coursing through my body, I'd be laughing until I was crying...or is it the other way around? Crying until I'm laughing?

'Cause really, enough is enough with this 'when it rains, it pours,' shit.