After the excitement of Wilson's birth had set in, I was feeling no pain at all. I was walking around on a natural high, not feeling my stitches from the tear at all (this would change later). That burst of oxytocin was pretty amazing! Mike and I got settled in our room, said goodbye to our awesome doula Amy and just stared at little Wilson. The fact that we were parents now was so surreal that I couldn't even fathom it. We texted and called the people who had been waiting for us and Skyped Grandma and Grandpa Hill in to see their latest grandchild in over 20 years and their first grandson. Afterwards, Wilson was sleeping so peacefully so we put him in his little bassinet, Mike tucked me in and went to go lay down. He turned off the lights, said goodnight and right on cue, Wilson started crying. "Welcome to parenthood," I said, as we both got up to take care of our new little guy.
The next day at the hospital was uneventful; I still felt great and Mike and I got rest in little increments. Wilson was having some gas problems from all the amniotic fluid he swallowed; he wasn't really hungry at all, just passing gas and dirtying diapers all day! At the end of that day, I suddenly started feeling my muscles which were now telling me I had run about 10 marathons with that 5 hours of pushing and I could now feel the tear and the stitches - not pleasant. I had found that I had lost all sense of modesty - it just didn't matter anymore in the grand scheme of things. We gave Wilson a tiny bit of a sponge bath, which he loved, because he had some bleeding on his head from the internal monitor they had to use on him - poor guy. :(
Things I was surprised about in the hospital: 1) those stupid hospital underwear and pads are amazing, 2) apparently there are way too many nurses eager to shove your boobs in your baby's face, 3) hospital meals don't taste bad when you are starving, 4) August is a bad month to have your baby in the hospital - the hospital was so full that the nurses were swamped and hard to find.
The next morning, even though I was tired, weak and felt like every muscle in my body was going to fall out, I was so ready to go home. We got the ok from the pediatrician, my midwife practice and the hospital, so we dressed Mr. Wilson in his little monkey outfit and then put him in his infant carrier, which he hated. First time we heard him scream, but apparently sucking on pinky fingers makes everything tolerable, so Mike packed up the car and I hobbled out to sit with Wilson in the back seat.
Mike had brought home Wilson's hat and a few blankets the night before for the dogs to adjust. Lainey, however, still felt the need to show her protest by peeing on the carpet, but since I caught her and we spent some time with them, they seemed to all adjust really well to Wilson. Mike grabbed everything from the car and I hobbled over to the couch. I was pretty surprised at how much I was hurting at that point; every muscle in my body was protesting movement and the "not-so-big-deal" second degree tear was now a very big deal. I watched Mike take care of me and hold Wilson, change him, feed him and then take care of all our stuff and I burst out crying. All I wanted to do was to stand up and take care of my little baby. But I was in so much pain that I couldn't. After Mike consoled me, we talked about the reality of our situation. Neither of us had family close by. He would have to take care of me and Wilson for the whole next week. He already look like he'd been hit by a steam roller since neither of us really had much sleep since the previous Monday night (and it was Saturday). I told him we needed to reach out to our friends to see if they could help and hire the postpartum doulas that our insurance covered.
After texting Deby, we had a doula there that night: Dawn. She watched the baby, did laundry, washed dishes, let Mike and I sleep and helped me with breastfeeding and pumping. It felt so nice to get a shower and to nap a little and not worry about Wilson or Mike (who was eagerly napping as well). Dawn must have seen that I wanted to do more because she reminded me that in most cultures, the new mother just nurses, relaxes and heals from the birth for six weeks while others help take care of the newborn and daily tasks. I knew this, but it's another story when you are home with your infant and feel like you can't care for them. I remembered my mantra that got me through pregnancy and labor: patience, trust and acceptance. It appears this mantra was becoming my life, not just a transitory journey.
Mike and I had to be patient with everything; patient with getting to know Wilson - learning to take our time with everything and giving him the support he needed to emotionally self-regulate. Instead of powering through diaper changes and other things Wilson didn't generally appreciate, we learned to slow down and comfort him when he was upset. We learned to take our time with everything and again, to be in the present. I had to be patient with myself; my healing was going to take a much longer time than I had anticipated. With a labor like I had, it is likely that it will take more than 6 weeks for me to fully recover. With how much healing my body was doing, I found myself losing weight like crazy in this first week; in less than a week after arriving home, I had lost 35 pounds and I only gained 24 during pregnancy. I had to be patient with breastfeeding because Wilson had yet to latch, which was equally frustrating for both Wilson and me. Pumping is not particularly fun; although when my milk came in and I was in a ton of pain, that pump was my new best friend.
This week was also about trust. We needed to trust our instincts with Wilson, trust each other and trust the help that was provided to us. Besides the doulas from Birth Partners, my best friend Jess came over frequently to bring dinner, watch the baby so we could sleep before the long night and help me out with pumping and breastfeeding. After seeing Dr. Smillie for help with breastfeeding, I trusted my own instincts more than ever. I also had to trust that someday he will be able latch and/or that we will be ok no matter what happens. On the one-week mark of Wilson's birth, Mike took me out to get hibachi lunch and a pedicure/manicure. I trusted Natalie, our postpartum doula to care for Wilson, but I have to admit, I was eager to get home just to see him and give him a kiss and hug.
Finally, this week was really again all about acceptance. I had to accept that I could not be super-mom, recovering from a 50-hour labor and caring for my baby independently. I had to accept my body and mind's limitations. This was a huge transition; Mike and I are now responsible for another human being. I watched Mike blossom into a father this week; worried to do everything right, in awe at the amazing being that is Wilson, expressing his love to Wilson and me, and learning how to care for babies on an exponential learning curve. We were able to work as a team, to encourage each other and to be thankful for this amazing gift that we received -- even at 5 a.m. in the morning with no sleep. It's not that this acceptance really came quite easily. When I was trying to pump breastmilk with a 3-sizes-too-small flange, getting nothing out and despairing that my milk may never come in, I was so frustrated that I burst into tears again. One thing I've also learned this week is that it's important to be in the moment, even when that moment is sadness or frustration. Express it, feel it, then move on. I cried, then let go of my frustration. It was during this time of frustration that our television decided to die. Despite being a bit sad that our source of entertainment and distraction was now removed for over a week until the repairperson could come out to fix it, I took it as a message. I needed to be in the present with whatever was happening, connect to my new baby zen lifestyle and learn from Wilson who was always in the moment with his feelings, frustrations and needs. And like a little reward for letting go and accepting, my milk came in that night, Mike bought new flanges for me the next day and I got a hands-free system that made pumping more bearable.
This week came with lots of memories that I will never let go of either. Holding Wilson, softly touching his skin and thanking him for coming to us, our little survival station in the living room, complete with sleeping, eating and changing accoutrement and a pack of dogs, Mike looking at Wilson with awe and love, the pure glee at getting a good burp, laughing as Wilson decided to fart/poop/throw up on daddy, watching the dogs try to console Wilson when he cried, getting Wilson to calm down when he needed emotional reassurance, getting peed on and generally just enjoying everything that this little man did.
The one pervading thought I had all this week was an incredible and deep respect for single mothers. You are the real supermom-superheros. To be a mom without a partner is something of which I am now in complete awe. I don't know how I would have done this week without the help of my husband, friends and doula support. But when the friends and doulas went home, I had Mike, who I am eternally grateful for - and who continues to encourage me and help me on this journey of becoming a mother.
The next morning, even though I was tired, weak and felt like every muscle in my body was going to fall out, I was so ready to go home. We got the ok from the pediatrician, my midwife practice and the hospital, so we dressed Mr. Wilson in his little monkey outfit and then put him in his infant carrier, which he hated. First time we heard him scream, but apparently sucking on pinky fingers makes everything tolerable, so Mike packed up the car and I hobbled out to sit with Wilson in the back seat.
Mike had brought home Wilson's hat and a few blankets the night before for the dogs to adjust. Lainey, however, still felt the need to show her protest by peeing on the carpet, but since I caught her and we spent some time with them, they seemed to all adjust really well to Wilson. Mike grabbed everything from the car and I hobbled over to the couch. I was pretty surprised at how much I was hurting at that point; every muscle in my body was protesting movement and the "not-so-big-deal" second degree tear was now a very big deal. I watched Mike take care of me and hold Wilson, change him, feed him and then take care of all our stuff and I burst out crying. All I wanted to do was to stand up and take care of my little baby. But I was in so much pain that I couldn't. After Mike consoled me, we talked about the reality of our situation. Neither of us had family close by. He would have to take care of me and Wilson for the whole next week. He already look like he'd been hit by a steam roller since neither of us really had much sleep since the previous Monday night (and it was Saturday). I told him we needed to reach out to our friends to see if they could help and hire the postpartum doulas that our insurance covered.
After texting Deby, we had a doula there that night: Dawn. She watched the baby, did laundry, washed dishes, let Mike and I sleep and helped me with breastfeeding and pumping. It felt so nice to get a shower and to nap a little and not worry about Wilson or Mike (who was eagerly napping as well). Dawn must have seen that I wanted to do more because she reminded me that in most cultures, the new mother just nurses, relaxes and heals from the birth for six weeks while others help take care of the newborn and daily tasks. I knew this, but it's another story when you are home with your infant and feel like you can't care for them. I remembered my mantra that got me through pregnancy and labor: patience, trust and acceptance. It appears this mantra was becoming my life, not just a transitory journey.
Mike and I had to be patient with everything; patient with getting to know Wilson - learning to take our time with everything and giving him the support he needed to emotionally self-regulate. Instead of powering through diaper changes and other things Wilson didn't generally appreciate, we learned to slow down and comfort him when he was upset. We learned to take our time with everything and again, to be in the present. I had to be patient with myself; my healing was going to take a much longer time than I had anticipated. With a labor like I had, it is likely that it will take more than 6 weeks for me to fully recover. With how much healing my body was doing, I found myself losing weight like crazy in this first week; in less than a week after arriving home, I had lost 35 pounds and I only gained 24 during pregnancy. I had to be patient with breastfeeding because Wilson had yet to latch, which was equally frustrating for both Wilson and me. Pumping is not particularly fun; although when my milk came in and I was in a ton of pain, that pump was my new best friend.
This week was also about trust. We needed to trust our instincts with Wilson, trust each other and trust the help that was provided to us. Besides the doulas from Birth Partners, my best friend Jess came over frequently to bring dinner, watch the baby so we could sleep before the long night and help me out with pumping and breastfeeding. After seeing Dr. Smillie for help with breastfeeding, I trusted my own instincts more than ever. I also had to trust that someday he will be able latch and/or that we will be ok no matter what happens. On the one-week mark of Wilson's birth, Mike took me out to get hibachi lunch and a pedicure/manicure. I trusted Natalie, our postpartum doula to care for Wilson, but I have to admit, I was eager to get home just to see him and give him a kiss and hug.
Finally, this week was really again all about acceptance. I had to accept that I could not be super-mom, recovering from a 50-hour labor and caring for my baby independently. I had to accept my body and mind's limitations. This was a huge transition; Mike and I are now responsible for another human being. I watched Mike blossom into a father this week; worried to do everything right, in awe at the amazing being that is Wilson, expressing his love to Wilson and me, and learning how to care for babies on an exponential learning curve. We were able to work as a team, to encourage each other and to be thankful for this amazing gift that we received -- even at 5 a.m. in the morning with no sleep. It's not that this acceptance really came quite easily. When I was trying to pump breastmilk with a 3-sizes-too-small flange, getting nothing out and despairing that my milk may never come in, I was so frustrated that I burst into tears again. One thing I've also learned this week is that it's important to be in the moment, even when that moment is sadness or frustration. Express it, feel it, then move on. I cried, then let go of my frustration. It was during this time of frustration that our television decided to die. Despite being a bit sad that our source of entertainment and distraction was now removed for over a week until the repairperson could come out to fix it, I took it as a message. I needed to be in the present with whatever was happening, connect to my new baby zen lifestyle and learn from Wilson who was always in the moment with his feelings, frustrations and needs. And like a little reward for letting go and accepting, my milk came in that night, Mike bought new flanges for me the next day and I got a hands-free system that made pumping more bearable.
This week came with lots of memories that I will never let go of either. Holding Wilson, softly touching his skin and thanking him for coming to us, our little survival station in the living room, complete with sleeping, eating and changing accoutrement and a pack of dogs, Mike looking at Wilson with awe and love, the pure glee at getting a good burp, laughing as Wilson decided to fart/poop/throw up on daddy, watching the dogs try to console Wilson when he cried, getting Wilson to calm down when he needed emotional reassurance, getting peed on and generally just enjoying everything that this little man did.
The one pervading thought I had all this week was an incredible and deep respect for single mothers. You are the real supermom-superheros. To be a mom without a partner is something of which I am now in complete awe. I don't know how I would have done this week without the help of my husband, friends and doula support. But when the friends and doulas went home, I had Mike, who I am eternally grateful for - and who continues to encourage me and help me on this journey of becoming a mother.
I love this post! So much of your first week was similar to our first week (I'm pretty sure we even have that same brown blanket in the last picture, which is too cute by the way). I love your mantra and am going to remember it when I am pumping at 3 a.m. only to get less than half of the next feeding. I'm also going to start looking at the pump as my friend instead of hating it with the burning passion of a thousand suns.
ReplyDeleteI'm struck by how our experiences are so individual yet so much the same. It just really drives home to me the power of women talking to each other about pregnancy, birth, and raising children. The whole process can feel so isolating but when you start reaching out and realize that every woman goes through the same emotions and challenges it really lifts you up.
Oh, and isn't it great when the dogs come to try and comfort the baby. We have four dogs. Two of them are really uninterested for the most part, baby is just another pack member who is beneath their attention. The other two are always running over to check and give kisses when Emma Jean cries or just to make sure she is ok when we first get home. I love it!
I hope your next few weeks go smoothly and feel free to get in touch if you want to talk or need anything. I'm pretty much a stay at home mom now and we are getting more mobile everyday!
Mel
Thanks!! We definitely need to get together! I am pretty much at home too and this massive change in life is totally overwhelming sometimes! Amazing, but overwhelming! Love your blog as well :)
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