The small one is here!
In fact, she’s already one month old, which actually makes
me a little sad (I still love her being so small). I am as terrible as ever
about updating this blog, but I did have a few observations that I wanted to
record while the memories are still fresh; namely, the things about
labor/delivery and the first few weeks postpartum that no one told me. I know
there are millions of lists like this out there, but none of them seemed to cover
any of this.
1. Exhaustion:
Forget pain during labor; what got to me was the exhaustion. Everyone mainly
seems to focus on getting through the pain of contractions (which, yes, were
horrible), but no one really communicated how absolutely draining it was. My
goal was to have an entirely natural birth; that flew completely out the
window. After 22 hours I was still only five centimeters dilated. At
that point I completely broke down and asked for the epidural. All I wanted was
sleep. After every contraction I felt like I had run a marathon; the pain
didn’t even matter as much next to how tired I was. I honestly wish someone had
told me to just take a Benadryl or something the night before and sleep before
the contractions really got strong.
2. Epidurals:
Don’t get me wrong – after being in labor for so long, the epidural going into
effect was like sinking into a beautiful, fluffy cloud. Actually getting the
epidural, though, was less enjoyable. Since my contractions were already around
two minutes apart (some even closer), it inevitably meant that they had to stab
me with needles while I was already in pain. Even after the initial numbing
injection, I could still feel the epidural needle going in, so I needed more
numbing. Nor did the epidural work uniformly. No matter how much medicine I
received or how they turned me, my left butt cheek remained completely
unaffected, so every contraction felt like a charley horse in my bum. Also,
even though the small one was born at 11:30 at night, I couldn’t use my legs
until the next afternoon. At first I had to have a catheter; then a nurse had
to help me use the bathroom. And for several days I couldn’t even tell I needed
to use the bathroom. It would just occur to me that I hadn’t peed in several
hours, so someone would help me hobble to the restroom, and I would be shocked
that I hadn’t exploded already from all the liquid. Finally, my lower back hurt
for days, making it a struggle to even sit up or get out of bed on my own (yes,
it hurt that bad). I really wish someone had more strongly conveyed how
difficult recovery becomes after an epidural
3. The
Pads: I was hilariously surprised by the huge pads the hospital provided. These
things were approximately the size of a hand towel; it was like having a small
throw pillow stuffed in my underwear. My sexy, sexy disposable hospital
underwear. On a related note, no one told me not to bring yoga pants to wear
home from the hospital. It doesn’t matter how comfy and stretchy they are – you
are not going to want to put those things on over your diaper and your weird,
deformed tummy.
4. My
Body: even knowing that it takes several weeks for the uterus to shrink back to
its original size, I was still unprepared to see my post-partum body. Or feel
it. My stomach was still poochy, but in a sad, shriveled way. It was like a
balloon that was slowly deflating, complete with the odd wrinkly lumps. And it
felt stranger than it looked. After walking around with a beach ball stomach
for so long, I felt weird and empty, like my insides were just kind of hanging
there. And I was so used to compensating for that big belly that I didn’t
really know how to walk anymore without it; I was sort of hunched over and
shuffling around (of course, the backache and numb legs didn’t help). Someone
could have mentioned how bizarre and uncomfortable it is to NOT be pregnant
anymore!
5. Stitches:
I ended up needing an episiotomy, which was probably the hardest thing to
recover from. Stitches…down there…are literally a pain in the ass. For several
days they burned horribly, and they continued to feel tender and bruised after
that. And going to the bathroom became a huge production. For about two weeks I
needed my peri bottle to use while peeing, a hair dryer to gently dry my nether
regions (I found the stitches hurt worse when it was too damp down there), and
a can of Dermoplast to spray on afterward. And don’t even get me started on
taking care of more serious bathroom business…
6. Cluster
Feedings: the nurse mentioned that the second night the baby would probably
want to “cluster feed,” i.e. eat several times close together. I assumed that
meant around an hour apart or so – not every few minutes. Michael and I were
completely bewildered when she would eat, then fall asleep, then start
screaming 3 minutes later. We thought surely she couldn’t be hungry again
already. Surprise – she was.
7. The
Medical Attention: I could not even begin to guess how many nurses, doctors,
and other medical staff were going in and out of our room at all hours. People
taking my vital signs; people taking the baby’s vital signs; people bringing
paperwork; people running tests…Since the small one was born in the middle of
the night, a lot of her testing was done at similarly odd hours. I’m pretty
sure I only slept a few hours out of the 48+ we stayed in the hospital.
8. My
emotions: I was not prepared for the emotions I felt after Aislin was born. I
thought I would be emotional; everyone had told me that. I was prepared to cry
at deodorant commercials. I was not prepared to not feel an immediate bond with
my baby. I still feel guilty even writing this, and I certainly didn’t tell
anyone at the time…but I had played out in my head over and over how I would
react when I held my small one for the first time. I had expected to feel this
wave of overwhelming love that would bring me to tears as they laid her on my
chest. In reality, I felt numb. I held her close and stroked her skin and tried
to keep her warm, but it was almost out of a sense of duty. I did feel anxious
when they took her to the other side of the room to weigh her and run tests and
whatnot; but for several days I didn’t feel that strong maternal bond I had
been expecting. It wasn’t until a few days after we were home that I really
started to have warm, fuzzy feelings toward my little girl. I had to get
through a range of emotions first. First, I was afraid for her, and I even
pitied her a little bit. She was so small and helpless – it seemed like even a
breeze would just snuff her out. And I was worried about someone taking her
away. I realized: I am her mother. God gave her to me; no one could take care
of her better than I could. It was that realization that moved me from loving
the idea of her to loving her as a person. Now I honestly can’t imagine life
without her, nor do I want to.
I cannot believe how in love I am with this tiny creature.
