I’m watching my son eat right now and it’s the oddest thing in the world. It’s so hard to believe I had trouble getting this very greedy baby to latch on and nurse properly just a few days ago!
Recovery so far has been much more difficult than I thought it would be. I’m just sore all over, and simple things like standing, sitting, lying down or rolling over take all the energy out of me. Never mind the fact that my caloric intake has plummeted exponentially since last Tuesday alone.
My stay in the hospital was a little longer than most, only because Baby C was three weeks early and they wanted to observe the two of us. And oddly, when I was in the hospital, my body seemed to bounce back just fine. Of course, once I got home, my body was suddenly in hell. My pelvic muscles ache terribly, and finding a comfortable position to sit or lie down is near impossible. I realize it will get better in time, but this is where my impatience will be my undoing.
We came home from the hospital on Saturday. His pediatrician checked him out, my obstetrician checked me out, and then we were (finally) discharged. I sat in the wheelchair, holding Baby C tightly, and whispering to him all the things that he’ll see in the Big Outside… and then I started to cry. It’s completely overwhelming, realizing that there’s this little tiny person who is going to rely on me for everything for the next few years. I want to do everything to protect him, to teach him right from wrong, to provide for him, to be there for him… It’s just so overwhelming.
The ride home was blessedly peaceful – Baby C was asleep the entire time. Of course, once we got home, it was a different story. Mind you, when we left for the hospital on Wednesday night, the house was in complete disarray. The nursery wasn’t finished, the crib wasn’t built, and we had baby things strewn about all over the house (I had a shower on April 1 and a work shower on April 5, and the presents were still out). We made a little makeshift sleeping station for him on the floor using a no-sew fleece blanket I made for him (with monkeys on it) and the Munchkin back sleeper I received as a present from a coworker. It worked, and I was able to take a shower. While I was showering, though, Baby C needed to get changed, and Daddy was feeling a bit overwhelmed with the task – keep in mind we just got home from the hospital and he had no idea where anything was.
A few hours after we were home, the cavalry came to the rescue. By this, I mean the Lipmans, the Musees, and our friend Todd. The ladies ran to the store to pick up some necessities for me (including Vaseline, maternity bras, and a waist-cincher – I refuse to look six months pregnant for the next month) while the men all descended upon the nursery, paint brushes in hand. By 10 o’clock, the nursery was painted, the furniture built, and the house a little more in order. I was ever so grateful, more than I think anyone could imagine.
My greatest frustration in this recovery phase is my complete inability to do anything. Well, that’s not entirely true, but I’m terribly sore and have been instructed not to lift anything heavier than Baby C for the next few weeks, not to drive for at least the next week, and to rest as much as possible. (Those who know me realize “rest” is a word seldom found in my vocabulary, let alone an action I regularly do.)
I’m in for a long recovery period, I’m afraid.