Well, here we are.

We got out of the hospital early this morning. To say it was a strange experience going back there, would be an understatement. The same ER staff greeted us as we walked in, with that ever-so-present look of devastation slapped on their faces. I told them we had such a great time before, that we had to come back for more. The head nurse mentioned something about liking it as much as a shot to the head; I could see the resemblance. After all, a spinal head ache couldn't be too far off that same path.

We were ushered through the ER fairly quickly, and to our advantage, we were working with a whole new crew of doctors, who somehow, managed to have about half our story. And, the parts they knew were the good parts.

"Congratulations on your delivery!! How exciting! Boy or girl?"

The first person that stumbled into our situation, I felt sorry for. They had no idea... So, I tried to ease his pain, by saying a lot of one-liners, like, "It's not your fault. You didn't know. Really, it's ok," while he stood dumb founded with his new found information on the rest of the story. And then we (Chris and I) laughed, awkwardly, which only made matters worse, until the mumbling faded into the quiet silence.

After three failed IV's in my right arm, they moved to my left. Morphine was plugged in, and we were introduced to our team of anesthesiologist. One, two, three, four, five. The second they walked through the door, I asked, "Ok. Who is going to be taking the blood? I want to see the face of the person I will be cursing over the next half hour." They all chuckled like little vampires, ready and willing.

And so it went.

The huge black and blue bruise that completely covered the top of my left hand was proof enough they had their work cut out for them. During my first spinal blood patch, my veins collapsed eight times, resulting in my hand looking as if it had been in a serious battle. They all started poking and prodding here and there, looking for my "good blood". A few grunts and moans here and there by the team, reaffirmed the obvious: ; my veins are less than desirable.

"I know there is blood in there some where!" I tried to mention encouragingly.

"Ya! I'm sure... If we stick a needle into your heart!" he head anesthesiologist said without skipping a beat.

I liked her.

Then, she came to hold me square, and look me into my eyes. "The feet is the most painful spot to pull blood from; we will only use it as a last ditch effort. I am so sorry... This is going to hurt like hell."

And I took a deep breath.

And it began.

Sit on the side of the bed.

Hold still.

Insert baseball bat sized needle into already exceptionally sore spine.

No numbing done, in order to "keep sterile".

Hold still.

Eight missed tries (you can still see the holes) to retrieve blood from my right arm.

Baseball bat still in spine.

Hold still.

Begin retrieving blood from feet.

Veins collapse.

Insert 2 cc blood into spine.

Baseball bat still in spine.

Hold still.

Begin retrieving blood from feet.

Veins collapse.

Insert 2 cc blood into spine.

Baseball bat still in spine.

Hold still.

Rinse, and repeat, until 20 cc of blood successfully is inserted into my spine a half hour later...

And she was fairly accurate on how it would feel.

After sufficient time, and a few tearful thank you and goodbyes on both ends, they ever so gently wheeled me out to my car. My back felt like I had been shot by a canon ball; every corner turned or slight bump of the wheelchair made me wince, with tears flooding down my cheeks. I smiled and wondered how silly I must look, with my bandaged up feet, whimpering like an old woman.

I was loaded into my car, and off to our home we went. At the moment, I am not capable of completing any task that involves my spine (read: move). I am back to bed rest, watching all the Hulu I want, snuggling with my boys who have become uncannily accustom to my body being a permanent fixture on my bed, while my babies get all the candy, fun-loving Grandma time their heart delights.

This where our new life begins.

Life is beautiful.