Apparently you have a baby at 41.
Dorian Marisa B. arrived last Thursday, via an early and somewhat scramble-the-jets, not-quite-emergency C-section. She is fine, and I will be once I heal up a bit.
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| Dorian Marisa Blanket-Burrito Feb 21st, 2013 7:34 am 8lbs 6oz |
In the course of that coming together I was admitted overnight Wednesday, Feb 20th and told to be ready to deliver any time from Thurs through the weekend, whenever the team could be arranged. Well, arrangement came together around 6am Thursday, and Dorian was out and getting a check over by a NICU team in the room just after 7:30. She needed a tiny bit of help to jump start breathing, but bless that OB & team, they had anticipated everything and we heard her little voice in about a minute. They never took her from the room, and once her vitals were up, they bundled her up for Adam to hold beside me while I got reassembled. She was handed to me to snuggle on the way to recovery then to our room. I must admit, the remainder of Thursday is a bit of an uncomfortable blur, as despite the excitement, major abdominal surgery does usually come with drawbacks. I do recall getting up to walk by that night - just across the hall from a semi to the private room we requested if available... but I had to sit down in the hall for a bit even to be able to make that trip!
We were in for the rest of the weekend, with Adam being absolutely awesome and just running back and forth home to hospital to take care of everything. I think he changed all but 2 of the first 25 diapers, too. The post-C-section nursing staff at Grand River deserve three hearty cheers for the awesome care of all of us, too, from the careful handling through all of the Dorian's tests and my monitoring to showing Adam where he could help himself to as many blankets and towels as we wanted. It was also a blessing to be able to afford the private room. Dorian needed 2 blood glucose tests in a row above a certain number, and it took about 7 to make it there, poor tyke - but the nurses were right there with a little bit of pain care for her and she didn't even squeak through all the heel stabs (I did. Her poor little feet!)
One thing they must warn all new parents about is the post-partum hormone hit, or "baby blues" expected around 3-5 days after delivery. Of course, most moms are home by then, but not if you've had a surgical delivery. So, for me, things hit abruptly, and strangely - at 2.5 days in. Saturday night, Adam had just fed Dorian her supplement, and was passing her to me, while I was standing in front of him. Just as I took her, she burped - and spit up, just the tiniest amount, but with a lot of pressure behind it. Hit her Daddy right between the eyes.
I nearly killed myself. I didn't just snicker or even giggle a little. I started a giggle fit I couldn't control, and yelled at Adam to take her back before I dropped her. And being 2.5 days post C-section and still stapled, it HURT. Holy heck, did it hurt. I could have sworn I was hearing staples pinging across the room as I collapsed on the bed, still laughing, and now sobbing from the pain, but just not able to stop. Thankfully, I was allowed Percocet while still incarcerated, so could up the potency of my next round of pain meds.
We were sent home Sunday, me feeling rather swollen, a little unready and still very wobbly, but at least with all staples removed and no further tests needed. But we didn't check out until Adam made sure she had a few glamour shots done in the lovely winter window light in our room.
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| Is THIS my good side, Dad? (please click image for full size display) |
The gown is an heirloom in Adam's family, worn home from hospital by his mom, all his siblings and so far his niece and nephew as well. The band-aid from all the heel tests keeps making me sniffle (hormones, yo), her poor little foot was so bruised, and she never made a sound about it.
Since getting home Sunday, I made it upstairs and stayed there until quite late Monday night when Dorian was cozily asleep and I dared challenge the stairs again to sync/charge my iThings. Things are improving, but any surgery is a nasty reminder of how frail one can be, and I have to make a serious plan for every trip to the bathroom (for me) or nursery (for Dorian). Getting in and out of bed actually requires a step stool and another careful plan for exactly which directions I can and can't roll, step, or crawl right now, and doing it all while handling a floppy little daughter is a whole extra layer of challenge.
The post-partum hormone hit continues to add to the frustration, as I'm not often debilitated enough to need to ask for help but I can't even check my incision myself, or reach Dorian's basinet if I'm in bed - or roll to that side to look at her, in fact. I'm also both foggy (about most things) and focused (on baby) at once and Adam is getting frustrated that I can't coherently answer him about some detail or other of the next day he needs to discuss. He's still being a trooper and waiting on us both hand&foot, though I did finally change my 3rd diaper today (he's done the other, oh, 95 or so we've already had).
And there have been a few more bouts of giggling and sobbing all at once, or just sobbing to myself over the kid - all "normal", but strange. Today's hormonal mom moments were brought on by realizing how much I'll miss her as every day goes by and she's a bit more grown than the snuggly newborn baby I get to hold only for right now. I'll have a new Dorian tomorrow.
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