The First 48 - Part 2
So baby is here and obviously that first night despite being paralyzed from the waist down I know there will be no sleep. Between the nurses coming in and out to check vitals and make sure mommy and baby are good, I now have to feed this little munchkin ALOT. But let’s leave the feeding and my adventures of breastfeeding for another post.
It’s Sunday and between me and the hubs (God bless his soul was a rockstar with the diaper changes and bringing baby over to me all through the night) we have gotten maybe 1 hour of sleep combined. My mind is still trying to play catch up and of course I’m really still trying to wiggle my big toe. We rarely get a moment of peace. Nurses still in and out checking my vitals, blood sugar, blood pressure so much so I’m surprised they didn’t check my blood color to make sure it’s the right shade of red. We have pediatrician coming to give baby a check up, my OB coming in to see how I’m doing and explain to me why things went down the way it did and check my lovely scar that I cannot feel. There’s also the hearing test on the baby. Mix in family members who came to visit and me not having anything to eat since dinner Friday night but ice chips and I’m in a great mood.
I figured all of this is necessary for both me and my daughter’s well being I deal. I’ll catch up on sleep tomorrow.
By the Sunday evening we are moved into postpartum and at this point I’m glad to feel my legs again. I’m glad that I was able to stand up after being in a bed for 2 days straight. I’m glad that though it wasn’t a shower the nurse helped me get cleaned up and in a new gown so I don’t feel so icky anymore. And though I lost my view of traffic watching for a rooftop of one of the hospital buildings there is a huge queen sized bed in the room so the hubs gets to sleep next to me and not curled up on the uncomfortable couch/bed contraption from the delivery room.
We don’t get much sleep. Trust me when I tell you sleep left the building. It didn’t pass go or collect $200.00. It’s gone. Feeding felt like all the time. Changing diapers all the time. It seemed like time slowed down to drag the time but sped up in that I felt like we had just fed/changed/put baby down and it was time to do it again. And before I knew it the sun was starting to rise and it was Monday.
If I thought Sunday was bad no one prepared me for Monday. Day 1 in postpartum is the day I’m hoping for that Sunday I thought was annoying back. Our first visit is from the pediatrician. It was funny to because we realized he was the guy I had sold my Samsung to not a year prior. All is good, baby is good let’s try to get some sleep. There’s that word again. We don’t know what that word is. The pediatrician was only the first of many visitors that day.
Photographer, birth certificate application lady, OB/GYN, billing department coming to ask us to pay our bill then and there, lactation consultant, lady from Children and Family services who handed us a folder of resources for information we might need, cleaning lady, meal deliveries and I kid you not a rep from a Walgreens pharmacy who came to fill my prescriptions for when I am discharged so I didn’t have to stop on the way home.
It never stops. Every time we settle in to catch some sleep there is another knock on the door. I just had a baby and already have to deal with the everyday nurse check ups and you would think the hospital would realize giving parents a moment to rest would probably be the best solution. That was not the case.
My conclusion on all this...while convenient to have professional photos taken right there in your room, or your prescription filled for you, when did giving birth become about all of this instead of having time to recover and adjust to your new dynamic? Why isn’t all of this stuff optional to those who would want to do it? Why not ask the parents when is a convenient time for them rather that stand there giving me information I will most definitely not remember because I have not slept and I’m trying to nurse a baby while you stand there saying things that don’t matter to me in that moment.
It’s Sunday and between me and the hubs (God bless his soul was a rockstar with the diaper changes and bringing baby over to me all through the night) we have gotten maybe 1 hour of sleep combined. My mind is still trying to play catch up and of course I’m really still trying to wiggle my big toe. We rarely get a moment of peace. Nurses still in and out checking my vitals, blood sugar, blood pressure so much so I’m surprised they didn’t check my blood color to make sure it’s the right shade of red. We have pediatrician coming to give baby a check up, my OB coming in to see how I’m doing and explain to me why things went down the way it did and check my lovely scar that I cannot feel. There’s also the hearing test on the baby. Mix in family members who came to visit and me not having anything to eat since dinner Friday night but ice chips and I’m in a great mood.
I figured all of this is necessary for both me and my daughter’s well being I deal. I’ll catch up on sleep tomorrow.
By the Sunday evening we are moved into postpartum and at this point I’m glad to feel my legs again. I’m glad that I was able to stand up after being in a bed for 2 days straight. I’m glad that though it wasn’t a shower the nurse helped me get cleaned up and in a new gown so I don’t feel so icky anymore. And though I lost my view of traffic watching for a rooftop of one of the hospital buildings there is a huge queen sized bed in the room so the hubs gets to sleep next to me and not curled up on the uncomfortable couch/bed contraption from the delivery room.
We don’t get much sleep. Trust me when I tell you sleep left the building. It didn’t pass go or collect $200.00. It’s gone. Feeding felt like all the time. Changing diapers all the time. It seemed like time slowed down to drag the time but sped up in that I felt like we had just fed/changed/put baby down and it was time to do it again. And before I knew it the sun was starting to rise and it was Monday.
If I thought Sunday was bad no one prepared me for Monday. Day 1 in postpartum is the day I’m hoping for that Sunday I thought was annoying back. Our first visit is from the pediatrician. It was funny to because we realized he was the guy I had sold my Samsung to not a year prior. All is good, baby is good let’s try to get some sleep. There’s that word again. We don’t know what that word is. The pediatrician was only the first of many visitors that day.
Photographer, birth certificate application lady, OB/GYN, billing department coming to ask us to pay our bill then and there, lactation consultant, lady from Children and Family services who handed us a folder of resources for information we might need, cleaning lady, meal deliveries and I kid you not a rep from a Walgreens pharmacy who came to fill my prescriptions for when I am discharged so I didn’t have to stop on the way home.
It never stops. Every time we settle in to catch some sleep there is another knock on the door. I just had a baby and already have to deal with the everyday nurse check ups and you would think the hospital would realize giving parents a moment to rest would probably be the best solution. That was not the case.
My conclusion on all this...while convenient to have professional photos taken right there in your room, or your prescription filled for you, when did giving birth become about all of this instead of having time to recover and adjust to your new dynamic? Why isn’t all of this stuff optional to those who would want to do it? Why not ask the parents when is a convenient time for them rather that stand there giving me information I will most definitely not remember because I have not slept and I’m trying to nurse a baby while you stand there saying things that don’t matter to me in that moment.
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