So then there was the placenta and the stitches and things of that nature going on and I didn't care because I was basking in all of the beautiful baby glory. We actually got to hold her for quite a while before she was taken to the nursery. I did try to breastfeed right away, which didn't work at all, but that was ok. We were both tired and had no idea what we were doing. B got to go with her to the nursery to help with her first bath and to make sure nothing happened to her. We were already in full-blown protective parent mode...
My post-partum stay had some real ups and downs - we were visited by many loved ones who came bearing gifts of delicious food and showered us with affection. What disturbed me was all of the conflicting advice I received from each nurse regarding breastfeeding. Penny had some trouble latching on at first and although I was hoping to work with a lactation consultant right there in the hospital, I kept getting "help" from whomever was on duty. One nurse in particular really bothered me and immediately busted out the supplementary nursing system with the little tube and the formula. Penny started gagging and sputtering on it and I freaked out because SHE WAS GOING TO DROWN MY BABY. Ultimately, I taped the little tube to my finger and let Penny suck on it so she would learn to keep her tongue down. Later, a different (and very nice nurse who owns cats) gave me a nipple shield, which helped Penny latch on and our first "real" feeding happened.
I was elated about this until I was told the next day by the aforementioned awful nurse that nipple shields were bad and that doctors don't recommend them. The nurse on the night shift told me not to worry about obsessively trying to feed Penny because she would eat when she was ready and had a nice big meal before she was born, and that it was normal for newborns to lose weight after birth, etc, etc. And then a totally different nurse after that told me that if I didn't feed her at least every 3 hours she could go into a HYPOGLYCEMIC COMA and have BRAIN DAMAGE. Jesus.
This was all understandably upsetting for me, however, in the midst of it all, we had this really cute baby:
So we tried not to let anything get us down.
After 2 days we were ready to go home. After agonizing over her middle name, we filled out the paperwork for her birth certificate, signed papers saying she was really our baby and hadn't been swapped for some other baby, and that we felt less incompetent about caring for her at home, thanks to the highly informative videotape we watched. (I signed the last one even though I still felt totally incompetent). Then it was time to leave:
I like this picture because she looks so sentient, and she didn't object to her car seat. When we got into the truck I insisted that the radio be turned down and B drove 20 mph home so she wouldn't get bumped too much on the drive home. :)
I made it home. At about 9:00 things really started to hurt. Every time I felt one coming, I would sit on my exercise ball (the only time it has been used in the last 16 months). We waited for them to fall into a 5 minute pattern, per my doctor's instructions. I didn't want to go to the hospital only to be sent back home. I moaned and cried and cursed every 7 to 10 minutes. There was a point where we thought we could sleep in between the contractions....which was ludicrous. By 5am I had three within 5 minutes of each other and we were off. When we got the hospital, I was dilated to a 6 and the nurse said, "Oh, honey, you could have come in sooner!" but ultimately I was glad I toughed it out for a while at home on my ball. She asked if I was "open" to the possibility of an epidural. I said yes. She said sooner than later? I said YES.
The anesthesiologist seemed trepidatious. WTF! Anesthesiologists should be oozing confidence! Getting the epidural was a huge decision for me in the first place. I gripped B's hands and squeezed my eyes shut and prayed that I would not be paralyzed forever because the guy was taking freaking forever back there and was making me very nervous. Then it kicked in, and when I touched my legs they felt like warm, flabby fish. The contractions peaked on the monitor and I couldn't feel them. It was great.
We tried to rest but couldn't sleep because we were so excited. I won't go into details about the catheter and having my water broken for me even though I was dilated to an 8. Let's just say I was very glad I had the epidural. At 10:30am it was time to push. The contractions on the monitor looked like the geological formations in Monument Valley. B's mom had one leg and B had the other and everyone was cheering me on. We rested between contractions and it was pretty surreal to try to have a normal conversation while spread eagle in front of every one. At one point, B's mom looked at me and said, "This is SO FASCINATING!" Meanwhile, B was trying not to freak out about the presence of 4 hands and a head in an area which ordinarily doesn't do that.
After 30 minutes of pushing, baby came sliding out and there was a flurry of activity and suddenly a purple baby was on my chest, sputtering blood. She took a gulp of air and started yelling. She was beautiful. Waves of relief were literally pouring off of me; the largest sensation of relief I had ever felt.
