Monday, August 3, 2009

First morning I woke up NOT preggo!

That's what it felt like to wake up two separate people; me in the electric hospital bed and Lizzie in her tupperware kennel NEXT TO my bed. I was in a bit of pain and pretty hungry, but my sweet angel parasite was finally disconnected! I could enjoy my meals again without revisiting them acidic-ly later. And I could breathe. Literally.

Because of my blood loss on the OR table and my lack of fluids during my double day labor, my pee looked less like pee, and more like a cross between orange and banana snow cone syrup. I was given many many bolos(?) or rapid infusions of fluid and told to drink drink drink. Which I did. But my pee stayed the same and and my swelling would not go down. My feet looked like Fiona's feet from Shrek. Like, when she was an ogre, not a princess. Bloated. Eventually my tinkle looked more like good tinkle and my catheter was removed. Yeah, that sucked. But now I could get up! Or HAD to get up, depending on how you look at it. As much as I wanted to get up and do cartwheels, my legs and abs begged to differ. Neither worked too well. Which really didn't help when my bladder cinched up 10 min later and screamed to be emptied. No warning. No gradual build up. Rapid catastrophic failure of an organ in doing its job. I almost didn't make it a few times. It wasn't funny then, but in hindsight, I must have looked pretty weird when I had to go. Thankfully, it has returned to normal :)

Today's goal was to simply pee unaided and make it into and out of a chair. I did it but it sucked balls. Pretty painful. You cannot truly appreciate your core or abs until you have them eviscerated and reassembled in the same day. Kinda like being drawn and quartered but without the drawn. And more like "halved". I wasn't sure I would ever have full function again from them. Like all the king's horses and all the king's men, couldn't put Fatty together again. We will see how that turns out.

We had some visitors too! Both the Taxson and Houser clans came by. It was so nice to see them and have a real live baby to point to and prove I wasn't going crazy. One look at that little monster and all my tales of horriffic heartburn and sleepless nights were validated. I didn't get pics of the Houser peeps for some reason but I did get pics of the Taxsons.

Aren't they so sweet looking?


At this point, I still couldn't lift the baby myself so I was at the mercy of everyone else's generosity. People get a little crazy wen it comes to newborns. Another thing that still seemed to be a bit off was nursing. I don't know how people do it in the beginning. They say to not introduce a bottle or pacifier until about 6 weeks so as to avoid nipple confusion. Which I understand. But my milk was no where in sight and Lizzie was starving all the time! I don't think that child would have survived on boobie milk alone when it was just colostrum. I inquired about this to the lactation consultant, who told me she would be fine without supplementation. With a raised eyebrow, I patiently listened to her reassure me. She said to nurse 30 min EACH, on both sides, and then offer the little terrorist a bottle. If, for some ungodly reason, she still required sustenance, she could be offered the bottle, but chances were slim that she would have either the interest or the jaw strength to take it. Inside my head, I rolled my eyes. Right..... You don't know this child. I have already BEEN DOING THAT pretty much. So we continued on. Lizzie would sit through an hour of jaw exercise and use my nips as a chew toy, then smile and down a whole 2 oz bottle in 7 min flat. Lather, rinse, repeat in 2 hours. Little stinker. "I will gladly sit through your hour long salad offering so I can mow down some McDonads crap food at the end." Evil I tell you; EVIL.

We decided Gramma would stay this night since only one overnight guest was allowed. It seemed only logical to leave the one most capable of truly helping me and let Stephen go home and get some shut eye. Lizzie again slept a huge chunk of the night, but the hour long "crunch on my boobies" parties started to wear on me. And my nipples. And then she'd finish a bottle anyway. What a turd, like she understood, and played by all the rules, but knew she was winning some how. She thinks she's pretty slick... But I'm pretty sure I'm slicker...

1 comment:

katquilter said...

Gramma loves those Taxson's.... they really are good people.....