The results were absolutely the opposite of what everyone had hoped. I'd made it through the pregnancy just fine, but the stress of the delivery and recovery was too much for my body to handle. I was in end stage heart failure with and ejection fraction of less than 20%. I could not walk to the bathroom without being out of breath, but I had honestly thought I was just tired.
Never even crossed my mind that my ticker had gone so bad because I didn't feel much worse than I had at the start of my cardiac issues. I needed a bi vent pacemaker put in. I'll let you google that shit here because to explain that whole deal is just more than I can type right now (while mr peanuts tries to eat the dvds). The bi vent is a stop gap measure to keep me off the transplant list. I know that one day I will either die or need a transplant, but I did not expect that this soon.
I got the bi vent put in in the end of October, but the weeks prior were hell. I had a steady and sharp decline. I could not think, I could not function, hell, I didn't even shower more than once a week. All I did was feel sorry for myself and try to take care of the baby. It was rough. My cardio really wanted me to stop nursing. It was putting such a strain on my body that she was afraid it was going to kill me before the insurance ok'd my surgery. I tried, but I was heart broken at the thought.
It was out of my control though, because mr peanuts decided that he was not going for it. We couldn't find a formula that he would even drink, and the one he finally did he couldn't keep down. I posted an ad on facebook's page humanmilk4humanbabies and was so very lucky to find someone able to donate enough milk to get us through my hospital admission (less than 24 hours total). She's an amazing lady with an amazing family. Without her, he might have starved. The dr that did the surgery was also amazing, and told me upon waking up that he saw no reason that I could not continue to nurse after I went home as soon as the anesthesia was out of my system. I was ecstatic! As it happens, mr peanuts went on a bottle ban about 5 seconds after I got home. He's never taken a bottle since, with the exception of once a few days after my surgery while we were at my nephew's birthday party. The only real reason I'd even given him the bottle was because my arm hurt and I didn't want to try to flash the whole pizzeria while I was nursing him. He drank all of one ounce and then required some boobies.
I recovered well and quickly and am now years (hopefully) away from being on the transplant list. My heart function nearly doubled and I feel pretty damn good cardiac wise. Now if I could just get the fucking RA to leave me alone I'd be great. I'm going to close for now, although at some point I NEED to blog about my day yesterday. My Gram passed away yesterday and I'm still in shock.
Until next time...
This is my old ICD