As Meg was gently removed from my plundered womb, I heard the nurse say, “oh look, the cord is wrapped around her neck” (providence then that I had to have the c-section). With that safely unwrapped, she was whisked away by the pediatrician for a quick check. As soon as all was deemed okay they laid her on my chest. My first little blood-link, flesh of my flesh, the emotions were overwhelming! (Side note: I am adopted and so this was the very first face I had ever looked upon that shared my DNA). There is really no way to do adequate justice to how I felt looking upon one of my greatest masterpieces!
Haydn went off
with Meg to have her measurements and things and I remained behind having all
my internal bits put back into the right places and then I was stitched up and
wheeled back to my room.
In time, Haydn
and our precious cargo were brought back to me.
There she lay in her trolley cot, all wrapped up and tiny. We were so in awe that we just watched her
for ever so long. We were green and
uncertain, wanting to touch but afraid that we would break her.
In swooped a
photographer, “Hello, would you like a photo of your new baby?” she asked in a
much too loud and chirpy voice. Of
course, we agreed. Then were stunned to
see the said photographer, with no medical skills at all, promptly unwrap our
priceless newborn and give her a little nudge waking her and then shooting off
a flash into her astounded little eyes! “Okay, I’ll send that off to you as
soon as I receive payment. Bye now, and
congratulations!”
Wow! If that woman could touch our baby, surely we
could? We looked at each other and Haydn
(with my permission) gently picked her up.
We both had little cuddles and then let her sleep some more. Sweetness, tiny precious little sweetness...
I must have
slept for a while during which the spinal block wore off, the pain explodes
into an unfathomable range. What the
hell? The nurses inform me that my
Doctor has left for overseas, an emergency, I shall be attended by a
locum. I have previously stated I do not
want to invite a lawsuit and so she shall not be named.
This woman walks
in (I kidd you not) a black mini skirt and fishnets, long red finger nails and
an attitude of “how dare you disturb me”.
My blood pressure was too low and so that meant that she would not give
me any pain medication, she half sat me up and told me that figuring out the
whole breastfeeding thing might distract me.
Let me say that sitting after a c-section, with no painkillers since the
spinal block (where they cut open your belly, then tear through your stomach muscles
and remove a baby from your womb) is worse than back surgery! With tears rolling down my face I try to
latch on my baby. Either my breasts or
my baby were broken – it did not work!
Grunting, she who must not be named, pulls at my nipple and then squeezes
it in such a fashion that I thought she was trying to pierce it with her thumb
(indignity – yes sir).
“Oh, well. If your milk does not come in by tonight you
can have Eglonyl” then, to the nurse, “No pain meds until her BP is back up to
#$%^@! (whatever) and ring me if there is no change by 5pm” with that she walks
out, not even a goodbye.
The nurse came
in and helped me to lie down again.
Sympathetically she suggested that since Meg was hungry, perhaps Haydn
could give her a formula feed instead. I
was in pain and desperate to do something right and so I conceded and Haydn
gave her a bottle. No-one explained to
me that once a baby has fed from a bottle that they may not take to the breast
because they have to work much harder to get the same nourishment.
My BP improved
and after about 8 hours I was given pain killers and things got better all
around. I learned how to bath, clean and
feed my baby. After 4 days in hospital
we were released back into the wild.
Nappies and formula became my constant companions; my new fragrance was
O’de puke fume!
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