The Devil's In The Details: The truth about postpartum after a cesarean. [Part I]

Is there such a thing as a perfect birth story? 

I've been wrestling with this question for years. The majority of mothers I have had the opportunity to speak with about their personal experience has left me to believe it's about as obtainable as clean home with toddlers.

This is sort of a follow-up to my not so sun-shiny birth story for Ellis. This is me being brutally honest, and finally speaking out about all the ugly truths of just what happened after the initial unplanned cesarean. This is me shamelessly using my blog as a dumping ground, and cleansing my insides of what has clogged the best parts of me for too long. 

After the cesarean, and overly long hospital stay, Ellis & I were released back into the wild. There is nothing that could have prepared me for the recovery I was going through, but having a friend whom recently went through a similar birth may have saved my life. Her & I talked regularly, mostly about the longing for a better outcome, a different story, but also comparing how each other was feeling. She felt better by the day. I felt worse.
Red flag

I called my OB's office, and explained that the pain wasn't subsiding but rather growing more intense.  So I went in to their office and was checked by a lady with long fake nails, a tattoo on her hand, and no signs of being an actual nurse. Based on her description, someone said that she handled scheduling. I remember her removing some of the tape, without gloves, and sending me home with pain meds.
Red flag

A day or two later my incision area begins to feel like I was stuffed with fiberglass. Aside from ever increasing discomfort there wasn't any concrete signs of infection (i.e. fever, vomiting). There was some redness around the area, however, and I knew something was off so I got back into my OB's--this time demanding to see an actual doctor. As soon as the doctor saw me she said I had cellulitis, and prescribed antibiotics stating it should begin to clear up in a day or so. 

The next day I felt a million times worse. The burning, and uncomfortableness was overwhelming to the point I asked to go to the ER. From this point things get kind of blurry. I was admitting instantly, and they traced the red surrounding the incision to monitor how quickly it spread, and spread it did...


It's insanely cathartic and equally difficult writing this out, so bare with me & check back for the continuing story of my personal journey after my cesarean. In the meantime you can follow along with us on Instagram @huxandlulu & my new more fitness/health/personal growth focused Instagram   @cleanslategreenplate