My due date was Wednesday, May 24. Early on, we told Molly that she needed to wait until May 23rd so she’d be a Gemini like Daddy. The minute I was far enough along to safely deliver at the birth center, I decided a Taurus baby would be just peachy, so she could just hurry her little butt out of there. I decided sex would be a good idea again after having no desire throughout the pregnancy, so we heaved the giant belly into the air and made acrobatic love. At 38 weeks or so I started dilating, and could feel it in my cervix very localized, so I wasn’t surprised when the midwife that week told me I was a fingertip dilated and 50% effaced. I kept cramping through the next week and at that next visit… still a fingertip. I had started getting calls asking when the baby was coming, and was really annoyed by them, because I was miserably heavy and achy and desperate to go into labor. At my 40 week visit on Friday, still a fingertip, and Laurie suggested I get some Evening Primrose Oil and Raspberry Leaf Tea. We went immediately to the Health Food store and I took the maximum dose I could of the oil, and chugged the tea by the gallon. I was so bored and cranky it was terrible, and I was bloated like crazy, and my back was on strike.
Sunday night we go to Shane’s Mom & Dad’s for dinner, and they’d made a huge West Virginia comfort food meal. Shane tries to get me to eat some Turkey, since I’d given into poultry cravings a couple of times in my first trimester, but we were over that. I have gravy though. There’s batter bread and sweet potato casserole, and I can’t stop eating. I eat until I should be sick. Then I have another piece of bread. I amazed there is suddenly room in my belly for food. We hang out a little while in the kitchen discussing my stubborn cervix, how adorable the cradle is all empty and waiting, breastfeeding stories, etc. We finally go home and just hang around the house. We are both up a little later than usual, and I go up to our bedroom to watch Buffy DVD’s. Shane goes downstairs to the office to mess around on the computer.
I pop in the DVD (Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 6, but I don’t remember which episode) at 5 til midnight, lie down on the bed and get extremely comfortable and relaxed, then feel the weirdest tiny little pop. Immediately my brain races: That was my water. Ohmygoddess that was my water. Go to the toilet. It is going to gush everywhere in just a second. My water broke, I’m going to be in labor. Contractions any second. Mom’s labor started with her water breaking, I knew mine would break early too. I make it to the toilet, and the whoosh comes. I feel very giddy, and yell down at Shane, “Come here! My water just broke!” He asks was I serious, well yes, and we talk about what to pack up (I’d packed the bare necessities but we had no DVD’s, music, snacks for the birth center) and when to call the midwife and his parents and my aunt. Right after this I notice that there is a green tinge to the waters, and slightly powdery looking stuff in the toilet. I know right away that I’m not going to the birth center and will have to deliver at the hospital. My high doesn’t quite crash, but I’m in a sort of suspended, distant emotional state at that point. We call and have Laurie paged, and she calls right back from the hospital. I tell her about the meconium, and she tries to ascertain the color and thickness from my description- the color of green tea but thicker but not soup thick. Inexplicably, I lie about the powdery dark stuff, thinking I am not sure if it was just a dirty toilet- I know it isn’t but I’m hanging onto a thread of hope I can still go to the birth center. We can’t agree whether it was too thick, and if I should be admitted to the hospital. She says to wait one hour, sit on white pads or towels, and report back on the color. I call Debi, our doula, to tell her what was going on. She seems confused by Laurie’s advice, or just sleepy, but we tell her we’ll call when things got further along.
I sit on a couple of towels, totally grossed out by the squishy gushes that keep coming, and we call everyone to tell them what was up. We say we’ll prepare for the birth center or the hospital, and keep everyone posted. After one hour, we call Laurie back. I report pretty much the same as before. She suggests we meet at the birth center and she’ll check it, and if it was thick meconium we’d go to back to the hospital. The hospital is only 10 minutes from our house, and the birth center is 30. So I tell her we can come to the hospital, if it was easier for her. Shane shakes his head “no” as I am on the phone, not knowing I am talking to her about just meeting to check on things. Seeing his concern about not going to the birth center is great, and makes me feel so secure and glad I have him as a partner in this. The midwife says they’d want to admit me if they knew I was in labor, so to just go to triage and tell them she is going to check to see if my amniotic fluid is leaking.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Birth Story Part 2: The Hospital
We get everything together, and drive to the hospital. The drive is surreal. I know for sure that I’m going to have the baby in the hospital, and we are just going through the motions trying to still make it to the birth center. We pull in and go to the triage labor floor. This is, on some level, fucking hysterical- I have on a thick overnight pad and a couple of cloth diapers in my huge panties and am trying not to make a puddle in the floor, and to keep a straight face while I pretend I don’t know if my water has broken. The security guard at triage tells me I have to go through the ER. I argue, he argues. I lose, and waddle off to the ER, where I have to pretend again that I’m a clueless idiot who needs the midwife to check to see if I’m leaking amniotic fluid., all while the squishy ick continues. I’m extremely annoyed and bitchy. We finally make it through the proper channels, and go back up to triage and labor. Laurie meets me and has a sweet nurse bring me into a room. Shane has to wait outside because of some asinine hospital policy. Laurie check me, and talks to the nurse, and she says “Blah blah blah pea soup blah blah.”
My heart sinks- I’m having the birth in the hospital, with wires and IV’s and chemicals. Laurie does an exam. My cervix is STILL only a fingertip dilated. I’m terrified and resigned at the same time as she starts explaining to me that they have to induce labor (augment actually I guess.) The pitocin will help my cervix open, apparently. I ask her about cervical ripeners but it’s not policy at this hospital.. She goes over my birth plan with me, ticking away all the items that I’m unable to have. No IV refusal now, no tub, no shower, no food- but she orders clear fluids which is against their ice-chips only regulations. I tell her I realize that the plan’s out the window but I understand. I’m very grateful to her for being so apologetic in tone and so gentle presenting this information to me. She says she’ll call Debi for us when labor is more intense, that we’ll let her sleep a while. It’s around 1:30 or 2 a.m. now on Monday morning, Memorial Day. A nurse comes in to interview me with the same medical questions I answered before when we pre-registered just in case. She asks if Shane’s abusive, I assure her he’s not, and then they are finally allowed to let him in. They hook me up to monitors for Molly’s heartbeat and my contractions. Oh, it turns out I’m having them every four minutes and had no idea. There had been some weird pain that I called “gassy/crampy” during the past couple of days which must have been them. They felt nothing like my Braxton-Hicks or what I’d expected, so I didn’t pay any attention. A young, newbie-seeming nurse comes in to insert my IV. Against the midwife’s orders, she puts it in the back of my wrist. They start the pitocin drip, and it makes me really drowsy. It feels like I took a valium. Laurie suggests I sleep between contractions, but I can’t.
Things at this point all run together in my mind. Shane’s mom had shown up early on before we were sure we’d have to stay. She couldn’t sleep, so she came on over. I don’t remember when my aunt Pam came with Janet, our friend. They were there for most of it I think.
For the next few hours, things seem circular. The monitor falls off, the nurse fixes it, then the same thing again. The IV gets kinked, they unkink it, it kinks back up. (The midwife is seriously pissed at the newbie for the IV.) There’s contraction, rest, contraction, rest. I can feel them now, but they are no big deal. I have to pee a lot, and I make them bring me a toilet by the bed, because it killed my back when they had me use a bedpan. Every time I have a contraction when I’m up or on the toilet it feel really intense and they progress until they’re very uncomfortable. Laurie checks me periodically. She says I am still not opening, and she explains that she’ll have to force open the cervix. The operation that fixed my birth defects left thick nasty scar tissue that won’t budge. The options are to insert forceps and open them quickly and forcefully, which makes me dizzy to think about, or to use foley balloon things to progressively widen it. She tells me both options are very painful and very gently tells me she wouldn’t recommend that I do this without medication. I realize that she must be talking about serious pain because she knows that I wanted no mention of pain medication, and I trust her judgment. I’m in a hazy this-isn’t-happening daze, but I know I’ll do what has to be done. I ask her “an epidural isn’t necessary is it?” and she says that would be overkill, that they’d give me a shot of Nubain. At some point later they give me the shot. It’s almost immediate and I’m loopy and stoned. I’m a little relieved and relaxed, and when Shane’s mom comes in I tell her giddily “I’m stoned,” and think briefly if she wonders how I know what being stoned feels like and then decide I’m a grown woman about to give birth and I don’t care. I think vaguely about my mom who definitely knew what being stoned feels like.
My heart sinks- I’m having the birth in the hospital, with wires and IV’s and chemicals. Laurie does an exam. My cervix is STILL only a fingertip dilated. I’m terrified and resigned at the same time as she starts explaining to me that they have to induce labor (augment actually I guess.) The pitocin will help my cervix open, apparently. I ask her about cervical ripeners but it’s not policy at this hospital.. She goes over my birth plan with me, ticking away all the items that I’m unable to have. No IV refusal now, no tub, no shower, no food- but she orders clear fluids which is against their ice-chips only regulations. I tell her I realize that the plan’s out the window but I understand. I’m very grateful to her for being so apologetic in tone and so gentle presenting this information to me. She says she’ll call Debi for us when labor is more intense, that we’ll let her sleep a while. It’s around 1:30 or 2 a.m. now on Monday morning, Memorial Day. A nurse comes in to interview me with the same medical questions I answered before when we pre-registered just in case. She asks if Shane’s abusive, I assure her he’s not, and then they are finally allowed to let him in. They hook me up to monitors for Molly’s heartbeat and my contractions. Oh, it turns out I’m having them every four minutes and had no idea. There had been some weird pain that I called “gassy/crampy” during the past couple of days which must have been them. They felt nothing like my Braxton-Hicks or what I’d expected, so I didn’t pay any attention. A young, newbie-seeming nurse comes in to insert my IV. Against the midwife’s orders, she puts it in the back of my wrist. They start the pitocin drip, and it makes me really drowsy. It feels like I took a valium. Laurie suggests I sleep between contractions, but I can’t.
Things at this point all run together in my mind. Shane’s mom had shown up early on before we were sure we’d have to stay. She couldn’t sleep, so she came on over. I don’t remember when my aunt Pam came with Janet, our friend. They were there for most of it I think.
For the next few hours, things seem circular. The monitor falls off, the nurse fixes it, then the same thing again. The IV gets kinked, they unkink it, it kinks back up. (The midwife is seriously pissed at the newbie for the IV.) There’s contraction, rest, contraction, rest. I can feel them now, but they are no big deal. I have to pee a lot, and I make them bring me a toilet by the bed, because it killed my back when they had me use a bedpan. Every time I have a contraction when I’m up or on the toilet it feel really intense and they progress until they’re very uncomfortable. Laurie checks me periodically. She says I am still not opening, and she explains that she’ll have to force open the cervix. The operation that fixed my birth defects left thick nasty scar tissue that won’t budge. The options are to insert forceps and open them quickly and forcefully, which makes me dizzy to think about, or to use foley balloon things to progressively widen it. She tells me both options are very painful and very gently tells me she wouldn’t recommend that I do this without medication. I realize that she must be talking about serious pain because she knows that I wanted no mention of pain medication, and I trust her judgment. I’m in a hazy this-isn’t-happening daze, but I know I’ll do what has to be done. I ask her “an epidural isn’t necessary is it?” and she says that would be overkill, that they’d give me a shot of Nubain. At some point later they give me the shot. It’s almost immediate and I’m loopy and stoned. I’m a little relieved and relaxed, and when Shane’s mom comes in I tell her giddily “I’m stoned,” and think briefly if she wonders how I know what being stoned feels like and then decide I’m a grown woman about to give birth and I don’t care. I think vaguely about my mom who definitely knew what being stoned feels like.
Birth Story Part 3: Active Labor
After the shot, the contractions stay the same for a long time, they are so much easier now. The midwife and nurses keep checking and tugging at my cervix. They never rip it with the forceps or use the foley though- they just stretch and tear it progressively I guess. Laurie goes to nap and says at 6 or 6:30 she’ll check on me. That’s in a few or a couple hours, I forget. The evil monitor keeps falling off and I feel fat and annoyed every time the cute skinny nurse messes with my ungainly gigantic belly. I’m still not excited, just dazed and cranky. I call my Dad at some point and he comes. In a while the shot wears off and my contractions get intense.
Laurie comes back and peeks at my cervix, and her jaw literally drops- 6 centimeters! She has cute skinny nurse look to confirm, and she agrees. They are very impressed and I am glad there will be no frightening, sudden tearing of my cervix. Laurie calls Debi, and shortly after this it’s shift change. The new midwife will be Delphine, who is our favorite. She gave us our first exam and we haven’t seen her since but her aura was so great I’m really excited she’s coming. I think she and the doula arrived roughly at the same time. I’m relieved a little that things are picking up. I decide it’s a decent enough hour to call Megan, my best friend, who must be getting ready for work. I very timidly ask her to come, telling her I totally understand if she can’t miss work. She scoffs, reminds me it’s a holiday anyway, and she’ll be right here. By the time she arrives, my dad, Shane’s parents and nephew, Janet, Megan, Shane, and Debi the doula are all there. They wander in and out in shifts at my direction.
I’m getting very introverted during contractions and have to tell people to shhh. I’m afraid I’m being a bitch to Megan. Then I want distraction and since Meg’s here I send Shane to the car for Buffy DVD’s and CD’s. Turns out there’s no DVD player, so we put in Tom Petty’s Wildflowers, which was my mom’s CD and has much good mojo. It annoys the shit out of me and almost immediately I have them turn it off. Laurie’s still here when Meg comes because I remember they give me a foot rub with nice lotion together. I try to enjoy it but am violently angry at my feet for being so swollen. I can’t wait to be not pregnant. At some point Delphine comes- yay. I’m in a little better mood because I love her so much. I start getting in different positions and Shane helps me onto the bed facing the back. Debi makes me rock my hips through contractions. It’s hard to move- I want to clench every muscle in my body, but if I move it does help. I imagine the baby moving down, and hope she’s close. The contractions are getting really, really hard and every time I’m freaking out inwardly thinking “I can’t do this, I can’t do this…” They tell me they have to insert an internal monitor because they can’t keep the external one in place, and that they have to do a fetal monitor that screws into the baby’s head. I’m so sad and ask for them not to do the fetal monitor but they insist and Delphine’s very reassuring. I don’t believe them at all when they tell me it doesn’t hurt her, but I have no choice so they do it. Her heart rate is perfect, just as it has been all along in between losing the damn monitor every two seconds.
Time is circular again. Contractions suck, Shane’s sweet, Debi’s quietly cheerleading and handholding. I’m a burning fire from hell and am freezing everyone in the room. Shane and Delphine have sweatshirts, Debi’s wrapped up in a hospital blanket. I remember Shane gets teary seeing me work so hard. I’m loud and groany grunty whiny during contractions. Delphine gives me an amazing pep talk about warrior goddess power and gets me to explain my yoni and triple moon tattoo. After forever I start to think I need to push. It’s a pressure but not overwhelming like I’ve heard it is. I wait a few contractions and then I say I think I want to push. I try on all fours and it’s hard. I feel like I can’t push hard enough. After ages of pushing Delphine suggests I get on my back with my legs up. This progresses better but it’s so hard. I feel like I’m flunking gym class and my muscles are just not strong enough to get the baby out. Shane’s on my left and Debi’s on my right and they each have a leg on their knees and push back at me with all their weight each time I push. After a long, long time it seems, The baby’s head’s visible through a small almond shaped vagina that feels like a huge hole. My butt is inside out, all swollen and disgusting. I poop, I think. I keep pushing, expecting to see her plop out, but she never does. I’m confused. She looks so close, why won’t she come out? I can’t push any harder, I’m exhausted, just reach up in there and get her. I think she’ll have to use forceps. It’s frustrating. They ask do I want to touch her head? I don’t- they’re just trying to distract me and I am busy on this mission. Couple more pushes, no little baby head. Delphine tells me she wants to do a small episiotomy, that there is scar tissue in my perinium like my cervix, and it won’t stretch. She and Debi tell me this is only the second one Delphine’s ever recommended. They say yes, it is necessary. They numb me and cut, and I’m scared this push will hurt more but it’s the same and in one or two more hard, hard, crazy hard pushes there is a small round brunette head OUTSIDE finally, and I push her the rest of the way out and I probably moan with pleasure it feels so good to get her little body out. I don’t remember her crying or the cord cutting but I kind of remember a warm wet baby on my belly. Then Shane cuts the cord, they clean her, and weigh her and bring her to me in a little hat. Oh Gods she is perfect. She’s wide awake and gorgeous and pink. I’m still lying down, and we nurse awkwardly in a propped up football hold.
Laurie comes back and peeks at my cervix, and her jaw literally drops- 6 centimeters! She has cute skinny nurse look to confirm, and she agrees. They are very impressed and I am glad there will be no frightening, sudden tearing of my cervix. Laurie calls Debi, and shortly after this it’s shift change. The new midwife will be Delphine, who is our favorite. She gave us our first exam and we haven’t seen her since but her aura was so great I’m really excited she’s coming. I think she and the doula arrived roughly at the same time. I’m relieved a little that things are picking up. I decide it’s a decent enough hour to call Megan, my best friend, who must be getting ready for work. I very timidly ask her to come, telling her I totally understand if she can’t miss work. She scoffs, reminds me it’s a holiday anyway, and she’ll be right here. By the time she arrives, my dad, Shane’s parents and nephew, Janet, Megan, Shane, and Debi the doula are all there. They wander in and out in shifts at my direction.
I’m getting very introverted during contractions and have to tell people to shhh. I’m afraid I’m being a bitch to Megan. Then I want distraction and since Meg’s here I send Shane to the car for Buffy DVD’s and CD’s. Turns out there’s no DVD player, so we put in Tom Petty’s Wildflowers, which was my mom’s CD and has much good mojo. It annoys the shit out of me and almost immediately I have them turn it off. Laurie’s still here when Meg comes because I remember they give me a foot rub with nice lotion together. I try to enjoy it but am violently angry at my feet for being so swollen. I can’t wait to be not pregnant. At some point Delphine comes- yay. I’m in a little better mood because I love her so much. I start getting in different positions and Shane helps me onto the bed facing the back. Debi makes me rock my hips through contractions. It’s hard to move- I want to clench every muscle in my body, but if I move it does help. I imagine the baby moving down, and hope she’s close. The contractions are getting really, really hard and every time I’m freaking out inwardly thinking “I can’t do this, I can’t do this…” They tell me they have to insert an internal monitor because they can’t keep the external one in place, and that they have to do a fetal monitor that screws into the baby’s head. I’m so sad and ask for them not to do the fetal monitor but they insist and Delphine’s very reassuring. I don’t believe them at all when they tell me it doesn’t hurt her, but I have no choice so they do it. Her heart rate is perfect, just as it has been all along in between losing the damn monitor every two seconds.
Time is circular again. Contractions suck, Shane’s sweet, Debi’s quietly cheerleading and handholding. I’m a burning fire from hell and am freezing everyone in the room. Shane and Delphine have sweatshirts, Debi’s wrapped up in a hospital blanket. I remember Shane gets teary seeing me work so hard. I’m loud and groany grunty whiny during contractions. Delphine gives me an amazing pep talk about warrior goddess power and gets me to explain my yoni and triple moon tattoo. After forever I start to think I need to push. It’s a pressure but not overwhelming like I’ve heard it is. I wait a few contractions and then I say I think I want to push. I try on all fours and it’s hard. I feel like I can’t push hard enough. After ages of pushing Delphine suggests I get on my back with my legs up. This progresses better but it’s so hard. I feel like I’m flunking gym class and my muscles are just not strong enough to get the baby out. Shane’s on my left and Debi’s on my right and they each have a leg on their knees and push back at me with all their weight each time I push. After a long, long time it seems, The baby’s head’s visible through a small almond shaped vagina that feels like a huge hole. My butt is inside out, all swollen and disgusting. I poop, I think. I keep pushing, expecting to see her plop out, but she never does. I’m confused. She looks so close, why won’t she come out? I can’t push any harder, I’m exhausted, just reach up in there and get her. I think she’ll have to use forceps. It’s frustrating. They ask do I want to touch her head? I don’t- they’re just trying to distract me and I am busy on this mission. Couple more pushes, no little baby head. Delphine tells me she wants to do a small episiotomy, that there is scar tissue in my perinium like my cervix, and it won’t stretch. She and Debi tell me this is only the second one Delphine’s ever recommended. They say yes, it is necessary. They numb me and cut, and I’m scared this push will hurt more but it’s the same and in one or two more hard, hard, crazy hard pushes there is a small round brunette head OUTSIDE finally, and I push her the rest of the way out and I probably moan with pleasure it feels so good to get her little body out. I don’t remember her crying or the cord cutting but I kind of remember a warm wet baby on my belly. Then Shane cuts the cord, they clean her, and weigh her and bring her to me in a little hat. Oh Gods she is perfect. She’s wide awake and gorgeous and pink. I’m still lying down, and we nurse awkwardly in a propped up football hold.
Birth Story Part 4: After Birth
After a while Delphine tells me my placenta won’t come out, and she has to reach in and tug. This is very painful and I’m just freaked out all over again. More pain? More complications? No, no, no, no. She pulls and the cord breaks off, my placenta won’t budge. She calls the doctor and on his advice tries again. No luck, so she pages him to come in. I’m scared and in a distant place again. Surreal, not happening.
The doctor arrives. He storms in, big and imposing and gruff and masculine. I hate him instantly. He asks Del if I had a spinal or an epidural and they tell him I’ve had nothing (the one dose of Nubain is ancient history) in a tone that tells me I really will wish I had. He is now scrubbed and gloved and comes over and shoves both hands inside me, all the way into my womb, and tears and pulls. I think I’m being torn inside out, my back comes up off the table, and I nearly throw tiny Molly in the air. Shane takes her, holds my hand. It’s hell. (I can’t describe that pain- I should have fainted. I don’t understand why my body didn’t let me pass out. It was nightmarish.) It’s over at some point. The baby’s in my arms, there’s a photo. Del stitches me up. Pam, the grandparents, my brother, Megan come in to see the baby. They take her to the nursery for a bath. I don’t remember when they brought her back, but I remember being so exhausted I didn’t nurse her then, and thinking I should but she’s not really hungry yet, she can wait a little while. (Later that night we have trouble nursing and I feel guilty thinking I should have nursed her when I was tired.)
When I’m ready to leave the labor/delivery room, I almost pass out getting out of bed. I’ve lost a lot of blood and they had almost given me a transfusion but decide not to. They wheel me off to the mother and child unit. The next couple of days there are a blur, but I remember:
Shane changes her first poop diaper, and she poops on him. I think it’s hilarious.
Shane brings me yummy Pomegranate Kefir smoothie and wheat crckers.
The evil nurse who I let dribble formula on my nipple to get the baby to latch on, and me thinking ‘this is bullshit. why am I not telling her to shove the bottle up her ass?’
The mounds and mounds of pillows with baby on top, nursing happily but shallowly with her pitiful little tongue-tied latch.
Visits from Dad, Renee & Teresa, Nell (hugely pregnant) & Rick
The heel-stick that made me cry.
The insane night of crying that made me call Shane back to the hospital at 3 a.m. even though I'd sent him home at 1 to sleep.
Sucking at swaddling and having a nurse show us how.
The happy laughing-at-myself relief of counting ten fingers.
The very first few “popeye faces” – her hungry rooting face
The headache they gave me a percocet for, and the Nap of Bliss that followed with my brand new baby swaddled up against me with sheets, belly to belly.
The endless annoying interruptions, discussions of her tongue-tie, having it clipped, and us finally saying fuck it and checking out against advice.
Being wheeled out in the wheelchair, proudly holding my baby girl and smiling an insanely happy, dog-tired, blissed out smile.
How tiny and adorable she looked in her little white eyelet dress from Big Molly
Noticing she looked like Shane’s granny in the car on the ride home
Holding her little head up in the car seat because it was wobbling everywhere, and being absolutely in love with the feeling of that tiny face against my palm.
The doctor arrives. He storms in, big and imposing and gruff and masculine. I hate him instantly. He asks Del if I had a spinal or an epidural and they tell him I’ve had nothing (the one dose of Nubain is ancient history) in a tone that tells me I really will wish I had. He is now scrubbed and gloved and comes over and shoves both hands inside me, all the way into my womb, and tears and pulls. I think I’m being torn inside out, my back comes up off the table, and I nearly throw tiny Molly in the air. Shane takes her, holds my hand. It’s hell. (I can’t describe that pain- I should have fainted. I don’t understand why my body didn’t let me pass out. It was nightmarish.) It’s over at some point. The baby’s in my arms, there’s a photo. Del stitches me up. Pam, the grandparents, my brother, Megan come in to see the baby. They take her to the nursery for a bath. I don’t remember when they brought her back, but I remember being so exhausted I didn’t nurse her then, and thinking I should but she’s not really hungry yet, she can wait a little while. (Later that night we have trouble nursing and I feel guilty thinking I should have nursed her when I was tired.)
When I’m ready to leave the labor/delivery room, I almost pass out getting out of bed. I’ve lost a lot of blood and they had almost given me a transfusion but decide not to. They wheel me off to the mother and child unit. The next couple of days there are a blur, but I remember:
Shane changes her first poop diaper, and she poops on him. I think it’s hilarious.
Shane brings me yummy Pomegranate Kefir smoothie and wheat crckers.
The evil nurse who I let dribble formula on my nipple to get the baby to latch on, and me thinking ‘this is bullshit. why am I not telling her to shove the bottle up her ass?’
The mounds and mounds of pillows with baby on top, nursing happily but shallowly with her pitiful little tongue-tied latch.
Visits from Dad, Renee & Teresa, Nell (hugely pregnant) & Rick
The heel-stick that made me cry.
The insane night of crying that made me call Shane back to the hospital at 3 a.m. even though I'd sent him home at 1 to sleep.
Sucking at swaddling and having a nurse show us how.
The happy laughing-at-myself relief of counting ten fingers.
The very first few “popeye faces” – her hungry rooting face
The headache they gave me a percocet for, and the Nap of Bliss that followed with my brand new baby swaddled up against me with sheets, belly to belly.
The endless annoying interruptions, discussions of her tongue-tie, having it clipped, and us finally saying fuck it and checking out against advice.
Being wheeled out in the wheelchair, proudly holding my baby girl and smiling an insanely happy, dog-tired, blissed out smile.
How tiny and adorable she looked in her little white eyelet dress from Big Molly
Noticing she looked like Shane’s granny in the car on the ride home
Holding her little head up in the car seat because it was wobbling everywhere, and being absolutely in love with the feeling of that tiny face against my palm.
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