hospital stay

I just wrote--and erased--an entire post about the hospital stay, which for us was between Thursday (already blogged about) and Sunday. The post was so bad I got bored writing it, so I figured no one would be interested in reading it. Instead of giving you an hour by hour account of the happenings at the hospital, I'll just fill in some details about what most moms already know and soon-to-be moms will probably want to know.

First, the hours after birth weren't anything like I imagined they'd be. I'd pictured myself sitting in bed for hours holding my beautiful baby, trading off with my husband (who was conveniently by my side the entire time), and allowing visitors to hold her (or him, if it would have been a boy) for a few minutes at a time. Ha! In the first few hours of her life, I barely held my daughter, and I don't think Al had her much more than I did. Those hours were filled with Nurses, Interruptions, and Other People. Nurses: Fussing over Bridget (monitoring her vitals, checking her over, cleaning her, taking blood sugar pricks, etc.) or fussing over me (checking my temp, helping me to the bathroom and showing me how to care for my stitches, offering me pain meds [I only took Motrin] and asking me if I had hemorrhoids [no--my muscles/ligaments in my inner thighs were still painful, and the odd feeling of ice packs and stitches in strange places on top of that made it hard for me to get in/out of bed still]). Interruptions: Okay, these were the nurses interrupting me and my visitors, always kicking them out of the room, taking the baby away, or blocking off a small part of the room and trapping the visitors back there until my "privacy" was no longer a concern. Other People: The visitors--my dad was already there, of course, and Al's parents came by, as well as my sister, Beth; my cousin, Jamie; and my brother and sister-in-law, Erik and Meaghan. I think my mother-in-law, Bridget's namesake, held my daughter more than anyone else that day. My point: my imagined welcome to my baby wasn't anything near reality. But as tired as I was, it wasn't a letdown. I was content to wait until the last visitors were gone to spend some time with my husband and baby, finally admiring how adoringly pudgy she really is. Al stood there by my side with tears in his eyes, and as we both looked down on her, he told Bridget how beautiful she is. It was so precious and sweet. It made up for all of the time taken up earlier that day with NIOP. (Note: Saturday, OP were fewer than I expected, which was nice since it gave Al and I more time with each other and Bridget. Al's parents, Beth, and Jen, Log, Cameron and Caitlyn came by--I think that was it!)

Second, expect even less rest than people tell you you'll get. I'm glad I dozed during most of the labor, because with the two hours of sleep (maybe) that I got Friday night and the three to four hours of sleep (again, maybe) I got Saturday night, by Sunday morning I had my first Meltdown. Crying, demanding that Al help me instead of pulling coats or blankets over his head when he hears the baby crying (as he had done Saturday morning when Bridget started crying while I was in the bathroom; I walked out after hoping he'd wake up to find a nurse technician changing her diaper and him doing his best to go back to sleep), and wondering aloud how I would ever do this and asking how anyone expected a mother to get rest in a hospital environment. But after another hour's sleep, I was somehow fine. So, little rest, high hormones, bursts of energy after short naps. And I felt even better after a shower when I was able to get into real clothes.

Third, ask questions. I thought people would be telling me everything I needed to know, filling my head with info--the nurses, the pediatrician, the lactation specialist, etc. And while they would to an extent, the pediatrician, especially, was not as informative as I'd imagined they'd be. Al was better with coming up with questions than I was, but we had to ask about things like how (and how often) to bathe her, how to care for her umbilical cord (in case you didn't know, they leave it on to fall off within about two weeks; baby doesn't have a belly button right away), etc. We even had to ask about leaving and were informed on Saturday that we could leave when we wanted, either Saturday or Sunday. This turned out not to be the case since the pediatrician didn't discharge Bridget until Sunday, but I think she would have if we would have said we wanted to leave. It also could be different depending on your insurance plan, so I would recommend that you ask about that as soon as you remember to. Same thing with vaccinations: we had to sign a form to allow the hospital to start them, and we forgot to mention it during the day on Saturday so they ended up doing it at 10:00 pm with her overall checkup (hearing test, blood test, etc.).

Finally, turn off your cell phone and hope that people don't use the hospital phone. Instead of calling everyone, I sent most people text messages and let my dad and Al call the rest. My cell phone battery doesn't last very long these days, so the incessant and immediate return texts ("Congrats!") that were so annoying as they kept coming through (appreciated, but another Interruption as I was trying to compose other messages) and the phone calls that people made to me were missed, and I'm glad I didn't plug my phone back in until Sunday morning. I would have been inappropriately annoyed at the constant attention. Al fielded all of the calls on his phone and seemed to enjoy it; it gave him something to be in charge of. It's a useful thing to get your husband to do while you're in the hospital.

Hmm. Not much more exciting (the post), but shorter and more informative. Just know that you'll hate hospital beds and be longing to sleep when you go home. But just as in the hospital, things at home can be different than you expect... (to be continued in next blog).