Recovery

So there we are.  A litre of blood and one 3.37kg baby lighter... and they told me I was having a giant baby!  Lies!! Juffin is trying to send out a gazillion text messages to our family and friends, whilst I lay there, zombiefied by the past 12 hours, trying to make sense of what just happened.

A midwife appears and pulls my gown down to reveal my ginormous cans.  Yes.  Ginormous.  I'll tell you about the joys I had shopping for maternity bras in another post...   she whacks my son on my chest and I just gaze down at his tiny little head which is slightly cone shaped due to being stuck in my damn pelvis for nigh on 6 hours.   He's so small!!  I can't figure out who he looks like cos to me he's like a tiny old man.  All red and wrinkly with perfect little hands and perfect little feet.  Juffin and I are smitten immediately.  I stare and stare, too scared to touch the little man.  I then notice that we are surrounded by people.

In recovery we are only protected by hanging curtains and nurses, Doctor's, midwives, are coming and going.  I can't be that out of it because after the 16th person pops their head into our little alcove I'm getting a bit embarrassed as that's another stranger who's seen my boobs today.  I know that they're all medical people and they don't give a shit but honestly...  To make matters worse, a midwife is pumping away at the breastaculars with one hand, and trying to move Max's little mouth over to them so he can get some good stuff.

At this point a normal person would be thinking: What happened to your dignity?  Where has that gone?  Oh, that's right, you have none, it left the building nigh on 8 hours ago.  Not only have you been wheeled through the hospital at 8.30am on a Monday morning screaming blue bloody murder in the throes of labour, shown your vagina to who know's how many people, and then been exposed, literally, from the waist down to a room full of strangers you now have a strange lady pumping on your boobs... wow.  That shit certainly wouldn't fly in the Mad Cow.

Having a baby is probably the most vulnerable state I will find myself in.  Ever.  In all honesty, after what I've been through I'm not sure that I care all that much.... and obviously that whole gushy tripe about it all being worth it is totally frickin true... sigh! I have no idea what I'm doing, if I'm doing it correctly or what to do with that tiny little person laying on my chest.  I'm going to give it my best shot though.

Mushroom aka Maximillian - One hour old

Next time:  You've had a major operation, sitting up is hard, and breastfeeding is also damn hard!