Part 3: After Birth

The next few hours honestly were a blur. We were taken up to a recovery room, where a nurse berated transport and me that I shouldn’t be there because my epidural hadn’t totally worn off my legs yet to which I was like “…okay but…I’m here so…what now?”

She helped me out of the wheelchair and onto the toilet and I felt urine (and blood) just pour out. I was terrified, because I looked up and told her “I’m not peeing. It’s coming out but I’m not doing it. Is that ok???” I was afraid it meant my bladder control was totally gone, but she told me that was normal and I’d have it back soon. She showed me how to make myself a nice diaper with mesh underwear, a thick pad, and witch hazel pads. She got me into the bed, gave a rundown of how the bed controls worked, said we should write down feedings and diapers on the dry erase wall, and told us 8 times about the cafeteria closing by 7 pm. Then she left. I stared at the newborn in the plastic bin, looked at Eric, and just started bawling.

I cried because I felt so utterly, completely broken. I knew I would feel pain and bleed and while I obviously knew, I didn’t quite fully anticipate just how bad it would feel. I know people say the day their baby is born is the happiest day of their lives but honestly it was so, so hard for me to feel that completely, devastatingly broken. I cried that we had made a mistake (something I’d cry about many times over the next few weeks). I cried for my body, for myself, and for that poor, tiny baby who had no idea his mother didn’t want him (which was how it felt in those moments, even though of course it wasn’t true). Even writing it now I’m crying again, remembering how truly terrible it felt. I hope this helps anyone out there who doesn’t expect to feel no gratitude, only terror and pain after delivery. I promise the good feelings will come.

(Editor’s note: 7 weeks after this moment and 5 weeks after writing this, as I finally turn it into a blog post, with the baby in his fabric wrap on my chest, I can unequivocally say he’s wanted and we love him, and honestly are borderline obsessed with him. It will come.)

Eric ordered us the sandwiches from the deli I had been dreaming of, but I was too nauseous and in too much pain to even think about eating it. I had half a terrible grilled cheese from the cafeteria and some applesauce and it made me so sick I would have thrown up if I hadn’t been so afraid of it ripping my insides open. I would cry many times over the next week over how sick I felt and how badly I just wanted to feel ok. It was hard to believe I would ever feel normal again (and 7 weeks later I almost do). I was producing colostrum but not able to latch the baby, so I just kept hand expressing drops and then he’d lick them into his mouth, which seemed at least to be working. Lactation had tried to stop by when we were up in labor and delivery but they arrived at the same time as transport so they promised to come back and we didn’t see them again that day at all, so we continued with the licking colostrum all night. A nurse brought us a syringe to collect colostrum, and we were able to syringe some into his mouth, which was how we kept him alive for the next 2 days. All I remember about that first day is terror and tears. I didn’t sleep more than 45 minutes total I don’t think. My body felt like it was shutting down (from a combination of lack of sleep, pain, and medication) and I was scared out of my mind. I was so afraid that at any moment we’d do something wrong and hurt him, so I just stayed awake and stared at him, quietly crying, waiting for it to be morning.

Well, we somehow successfully survived night 1. The next day he had only lost a small amount of weight and they said he was doing well. They took him for his routine tests and a sponge bath, and he was gone for 4 hours. This is too long, since newborns need to eat every 3 hours max, and he hadn’t eaten for an hour when they took him. After 5 hours of not eating, he was extremely lethargic when he was returned. Lactation finally arrived in the afternoon, and they were not able to get him to wake up or latch, so we again syringe fed him what we could get and I tried not to hyperventilate.

At one point Eric tried to turn on the tv and I think I freaked out and made him turn it off because my thoughts were screaming so loudly I couldn’t stand more noise. We had brought so much “entertainment” for the “downtime” during labor and in the hospital—used none of it. We had 0 downtime. We barely opened our bags, just used clothes to go home in, toothbrushes, and snacks. The snack bag was actually by far the most valuable. Good job Eric. However he also forgot the long phone chargers that every single person tells you to bring, so not good job on that front.

The LC came back a few hours later and after sweating over us for an hour, she still wasn’t able to get him to latch. She came back with a nipple shield and a pump, and instructed us to pump for 15 minutes and then hand express after every time I attempted to feed him. This meant feedings were taking a full hour, so no one was going to sleep. At all. We did this for 24 hours. I know it’s dramatic, but I truly felt like he was on the verge of survival. He was so tiny, so lethargic, and it was honestly terrifying. Again, I spent the night in fear, waiting for the sun to rise over the East river.

The next day, the nurses came and picked him up again, this time for an echo and ecg. He still had the baby heart murmur that all are born with, but his hadn’t resolved yet. They told us this was very common, but that while we were in the hospital they wanted to make sure it was just that regular murmur that was fully expected to close. (Results of the tests said it’s just that, and we have a follow up at 6 months but they don’t expect problems so fingers crossed).

I begged them not to keep him away for multiple hours again, that he was just starting to have energy, and that yesterday he was really suffering from being gone so long. The nurse assured me he’d be back in 45 minutes to an hour. 4 hours later, after paging the nurses and sending Eric down the hall and to the nursery multiple times, he was returned to me inconsolable and screaming. We were back to the same pattern of lethargic, unable to latch, low energy. We were all extremely distressed.

At some point another lactation consultant came by and was able to get him latched without the shield, and told us to keep trying. This gave us some (temporary) confidence and we finally agreed to be discharged on Sunday around 4. It was sheer exhaustion and terror, but we survived our first 48 hours.

The car ride home was uneventful, mostly thanks to the fact that I had purchased the Safe in the Seat car seat course (@safeintheseat on instagram) and we had practiced harnessing. We also had a printout of everything to look for when harnessing with us in the hospital, so that we knew he was safely secured in his seat. A sleep deprived Eric carefully maneuvered the car onto the Queensboro Bridge, and we were headed home to the girls.