Two years ago this hour. . .

[velvetpage]

I was sleeping off the morphine that was given to me through the epidural during the c-section. No, I'm pretty sure that's not standard procedure; the epidural didn't deaden all the nerves in my belly, so they had to top it up with something.

My newborn was in the hospital nursery and Piet had gone home to get a few hours' rest. To get back in each day, he had to work his way through about four layers of disease-control stations, including masked guards asking if he'd been in any Toronto hospitals recently and that alcohol-sanitizing stuff that is now standard operating procedure in every type of medical office all over Ontario. It was the middle of the SARS crisis, which meant that I got exactly two visitors during my five days in hospital - Drs. Brian and Caroline, who were in the hospital anyway, and were still given hell by the mat ward nurses because people weren't supposed to be going between wards like that. We realized afterwards that we should have left the baby in the nursery (the nurses made us do that anyway when they arrived) and gone down to the coffee shop on the first floor to meet them. But I digress.

I had had the epidural around two the previous afternoon, and after that labour was a breeze. I'd look at the monitor or my belly and say, "Oh, look. Another contraction. That's a hard one, isn't it?" Piet was more with it than I was; he figured out that contractions were not supposed to come one on top of the other like that, and that the baby was in a bit of distress. He was not surprised when, at eight o'clock, we were told they were stopping the induction and were going to do a c-section. I'm glad he had the good sense not to clarify that situation for me, though. In any case, since I had dozed on and off since the epidural, I was in decent shape that morning. I called my school, my grandparents, and a bunch of other people to tell them the good news. My mom, my dad and my in-laws had gotten their calls at 3:00 a.m., of course.

One of the casualties of the SARS crisis was the breastfeeding specialist; as a registered nurse, she had been called to Toronto to provide some relief for nurses caught in the thick of things there. So there was no one around to tell me one really crucial piece of information about nursing. The books say that newborns in their first few weeks need to eat every two to three hours. What none of the books (or anyone else, for that matter) thought to tell me was that this was a continuum. Some babies would want to nurse almost constantly, some every three hours, and they'd let you know this by - crying. I walked the floor with her for hours in the first few days, thinking she couldn't possibly want to eat again yet, it had only been half an hour. I pass on to you what I learned in the following weeks: when they cry, offer the breast. If they're not hungry, they'll suck twice and then let go, and you'll have to try something else. But if they are hungry, you've settled them down and gotten some nutrition into them right off the bat. They'll grow like weeds.

By Friday night, at the age of three days, Elizabeth was jaundiced and losing more weight than she should have been. My milk hadn't come in yet. The nurse decided we needed to supplement. Piet would give her the bottle, I would pump at the same time for stimulation, and the next day my milk would come in and all would be peachy. Piet asked me how I felt about that. I tried to be brave for a moment, saying I'd do what had to be done, then I looked at that little bundle of humanity and said, "My feet hurt, my belly hurts, my breasts hurt, and my baby won't eat!" Then I burst into tears.

The next day my milk came in, she started to lose that orange tinge to her skin, and by Sunday we went home. Easter Sunday. I loved the symbolism of that.

My mom and my stepdad met us at home, and we chatted for a bit and I ate something, and so did Elizabeth. A little while after they left, my dad came over and thanked us for making sure he was the first to see her. We decided discretion was the better part of valour in that respect.

Gotta go, my two-year-old wants to play. She came running into the room shouting, "Ha birfday, Mommy!"

Comments

[kesmun.livejournal.com]

As far as I know the whole "my feet hurt, my belly hurts, my breasts hurt, and my baby won't eat!" and bursting into tears was completely and utterly normal.

I was there a little over four years ago for my nephew's birth, and that didn't deter me. Unfortunately for my sister's best friend, who was about 5 months along at the time, it might have deterred her. *G*

[velvetpage.livejournal.com]

Oh, it was perfectly normal. I've laughed at it many times since then. It was also an excellent illustration of why everyone around a new mom needs to be extra-sensitive and helpful. The trauma was very real, for a day or so. Then my milk came in, and all was well again.

[kesmun.livejournal.com]

Yeppers. The ones who don't have sensitive people around them end up like the ones who become famous for driving their cars into lakes with the kids in their carseats.

[anidada.livejournal.com]

I had no idea you'd had a c-section. *smacks self* Goodness, that sure puts a lot of things in perspective, doesn't it? And you know the kind of stuff we went through, too, in similar ways (SARS, lack of real help breastfeeding, exhaustion and pain...). At least this stuff is all filed away for next time! :)

Your lovely girl is two years old -- laughing, learning, gorgeous, sweet. It's a wonderful day -- and not just because the sun is shining. She shines, too.

Happiest of birthdays to your little sweetheart. *hugs*

[velvetpage.livejournal.com]

THanks. She still hasn't figured out that this day is just about her. :)

[monenigme.livejournal.com]

In the middle of the SARS crisis? I can only imagine what a logistical nightmare (among other things) that must have been.

She is a cutie - and I'm glad you can look back on your experience knowing the bad but having it greatly overshadowed by the good.

Having 4 children myself with completely different birthstories each, I always love to hear other women's stories. Thanks for sharing yours!

I'm starting a memories section of just birthstories... do you mind if I include yours?

[velvetpage.livejournal.com]

Go right ahead. If it serves to make the process a little more mom-friendly, I'm all for it.