I’d like to think that Daniel and I prepared ourselves the best we could for parenthood. We attended all the courses and classes offered, read blogs and baby books, talked intensely with our midwife about every aspect of the delivery, but there was a critical piece that we missed…what to expect after the delivery. We knew the specifics, that we would stay at the patient hotel where there would be midwives to assist us with breastfeeding and monitoring of our newborn. Yes, we knew there would be some recovery time for me, but never in too much detail.
I think there should have been a separate course and more attention focused on this part of the journey since it was so beyond what I was expecting. I was in a baby bubble the first day, still processing and getting over the shock that we were now parents and responsible for this perfect little human. The first night Theodore slept and only breastfed once which with the help of a midwife latched on without a problem. I thought to myself, “could I be one of the lucky ones that gets it on the first try?” Boy was I wrong. I mean… so wrong.
The second night with Theodore was by far the worst. We had no clue what we were doing and he cried non-stop. We pleaded with the midwife what to do and their response was more or less that this was normal and that we needed to wait until my milk came in which was anywhere from 3-5 days after delivery. He wasn’t satisfied by the amount of milk he was getting so he was crying it out. Daniel and I were beside ourselves with worry and sadness.
He was only able to latch onto one breast correctly, the other he took such a small bite that it was excruciating every time I fed him with that breast. So already on the second day of his life, I felt like a complete failure of a mother. He had a touch of jaundice that we were having to monitor, this meant that they needed blood samples from the little guy everyday until the levels went down. Our poor little guy was pricked and left bruised up on his little hands for 5 days. I cried hearing him cry. It was the worst feeling of being so helpless.
The third day was marginally better, but by this time that bad breast had begun to bleed so I had to stop breastfeeding on that side. Theodore was losing weight and we have to supplement with a bit formula after every feeding. We literally had to force feed him until he spit up so that he would get enough nutrients in his body. As a new mom you could imagine how this could take a toll on you emotionally.
Meanwhile, I was still in the process of recovery. What took 9 months for the body to prepare for delivery was now having to move back to its original position and it is painful. Daniel read somewhere that the recovery after delivery is similar to someone having open heart surgery. I was in a world of pain and needed muscle relaxers just to get by. Daniel still had to help me up out of bed and around since my back and sides were in such pain.
When asked by my sister how I was doing my response was, “I have extreme back pain and soreness in my stomach. My uterus is constantly bleeding out so I have to wear thick pads all day and the stitches from being torn needs to heal and that’s uncomfortable on another level.” I don’t think that’s the response she was looking for, but for me that’s the honest truth. There isn’t enough attention given to how hard recovery is or what women go through even after delivery. Not just physically, but emotionally. Of course everyone’s experience is different, but this was mine and I’m keeping it real as I always do.
It’s the most incredible experience of my life in good and bad ways and I’m not ashamed to say that it’s tough, painful and exhausting. But all this brought me the greatest joy of my life and for that I can’t be mad. I just wish I had known more about the actual expectations after the baby was born so that I could have mentally prepared. It has been 12 days since Theodore’s birth and day by day it’s getting better. He’s not sleeping through the night and is fussy and feeds constantly, but I love our alone cuddle time and even when I feel that I can’t do it, his little face pushes me on. I guess that’s motherhood.