On the first few days at Waitakere

                                                       Etta at just a few hours old

It's been tricky getting used to being home alone with a little wee baby.  Finding time to do simple things like go to the toilet and sleep have taken priority, which means fun things, like writing blog posts, are done little block by block if and when I can find time.  But there's a lot I want to write, so will do my best to do it as I can and as best I can. 

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The reason why Caesarian Section was always my worst case scenario for labour was because of the recovery.  Having had minor abdominal surgeries before I had some idea of what I would be in for.  I knew I wouldn't be able to lift things, or do most things around the house.  I knew that I would be tired and in pain during what would already be a trialling time.  But knowing this didn't prepare me for how it felt not to even be able to pick up my new baby.

I was put on a pain pump (pethadine), and being used to how post surgery pain works, preemptively took just enough regular pain relief to keep the pain from creeping up without getting too spaced out.  The idea of being high with a new baby has never appealed to me.  Murray was pretty much kicked out of the hospital as soon as I got to my room - not even an hour and a half after our first child was born and I'd had major surgery.  I understand why Waitakere is so strict (so women and babies can get proper rest) but considering I had a room to myself it seemed unnecessary and a bit mean.  Being left alone with a new baby when you can't even sit up without help is scary, even with Midwifes available on call.

Because I couldn't move much, or pick Etta up, for the entire time I was at Waitakere I was reliant on Midwives and Murray to do everything for her.  If I wanted to feed her I had to phone for them to come, pick her up out of her little plastic bed, and bring her to me.  If she needed a change, they had to do it.  If she was crying I did my best to soothe her with my voice.  The first night with her I didn't sleep as was terrified she'd die.  She made this weird wheezing noise so I paged the midwife - apparently a totally normal baby noise.  Normal baby noises are terrifying to new mums.

Around 11am the next day they took out my catheter and I tried standing up for the first time.  This was more painful than with previous surgeries I've had, but was manageable.  What I desperately wanted more than anything was a shower.  After labour and surgery you feel pretty gross.  And even though surgery is carried out in a sterile environment, you always find dye, blood and weird bits of tape residue everywhere afterward*.  I was grateful for the shower chair and Murray who made showering possible.  I was so glad I'd packed a very decent toiletry bag with all the things I need to feel 'normal' - shampoo, conditioner, face wash, moisturiser, eye cream, mouth wash, sleep mask - it's not vanity, it's all about comfort.   And after that shower and sort out I felt like a half decent human.  I also managed to pee for the first time.  This was tender due to having had a catheter, but I'm sure probably much less tender than had I managed a totally natural birth (according to what was said at antenatal classes).

Shortly after my shower lunch arrived.  We had packed some snacks for labour, so I had eaten a small amount since, but after a long labour and surgery I was absolutely famished.  Waitakere clearly didn't have my dietary requirements on file so lunch was a regular cheese and salad sandwich.  I did not care.  It tasted fantastic.  I hadn't eaten anything that substantial in almost 24 hours.  And it was a fricken cheese sandwich.  Who can say no to a free cheese sandwich ever?  Let alone during a time of desperation**.

Because with a C Section you can have up to 48 hours before transferring from hospital to the Birthing Units, both the hospital and I concurred it would be best to stay two nights at Waitakere as they could monitor my recovery and pain management better and we'd still have time to get to Helensville.  The first day Etta's Ella (my Mum), Nana and Poppa (Murray's folks) and Great Grandma (my Grandma) came to meet her.  I felt more prepared for visitors than I thought I would, and visitors definitely helped make hospital time a bit less boring.  In saying that, it's the least boring hospital time I've ever had because this time I had something other than me to focus on - our new little family.

I didn't manage to sleep the second night either.  At around 1am I had nearly drifted off when I felt my heart rate suddenly increase.  I got such a fright that I called the Midwife to check me out in case it was a drug reaction.  My stats were completely fine.  I started bawling when she told me that -  I was sure something had to be wrong with me.   She asked me when I last slept - it hadn't been since I went into labour, almost 48 hours ago.  I was just physically and mentally exhausted.  Used to being told off for not sleeping at hospital, I apologised for the fuss.  I'm not a good sleeper at the best of times (I also can't pee in bedpans, not matter how full of urine I am), and hospital, even peaceful room-to-self hospital, doesn't help.  This Midwife was wonderful.  She brought me a cup of tea and a muffin (which I fed to Murray later - cheese sandwich in desperate times was understandable, a muffin as well is just crazy)  and checked when Murray was due back so he could watch Etta while I had a sleep.  It was so nice to have someone be so understanding.  I'm sure Midwife's are more used to new Mum's having trouble sleeping, but it was very helpful nonetheless.

So because I'd previously told Murray not to come in until 9am so he could have a proper rest, I called him at an ungodly hour and told him he needed to come in at 7am because I needed the rest more.  I played Sudoku and watched the clock until he arrived.  Then I managed two blissful hours of sleep.  Not much, but when you've not slept for more than two days it feels almost like a full nights sleep.

Not long after I woke up we were told that (thankfully) there was a room available at the Helensville Birthing Units for us.  How the birthing units work is that you book in advance, but it is still dependant on Mummy-volume as to whether you can stay or not.  I was so thankful there was space for us.  I still couldn't look after Etta properly, and although Murray would have looked after us I really wasn't ready to go home yet.  We were discharged around 2pm after Etta passed her hearing test and I had another wonderful shower.

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I have never felt as helpless as I did in the days immediately following Etta's birth.  Being reliant on others to care for what will be the biggest responsibility I'll ever have was heartbreaking for me.  I didn't change a single meconium nappy.  I didn't get to wrap her, or tuck her into her plastic hospital crib.  Sounds like a very weird thing to think about, but I didn't even personally verify her gender until she was four days old.  On the first night when she whimpered all I could do was talk to her and call the Midwife.  And I hardly held Etta except when I was feeding her, as I was too chicken to call the Midwife's just because I wanted a cuddle.  Being someone who never holds babies, wanting to hold a baby for fun, even your own baby, seemed like an excessive reason to bell a Midwife.

I'm not going to tell you how becoming a parent changes you, because I got sick of people telling me this.  I won't tell you how it'll make you feel because I hated being told how I'd feel.  When people say 'You will feel like X' and then you actually feel like K, it can make you feel like there's something wrong with you, even when you know that's absolute bollocks.  

I never felt an overwhelming rush of 'love', but I do love Etta.  I know this because what I mostly feel is terrified.  I wouldn't feel like this if I didn't love her.  I didn't sleep the first night because I was scared she'd die.  Murray feels the same way - we have both checked that she's still breathing many, many times.  Although I read plenty about labour, pregnancy and even parenting, I read nothing practical about babies as I've never been remotely interested in them.  I know this means babies should have been mostly what I read about, but with pregnancy brain things not of interest (babies) were way harder to read about than things of interest (neuroscience and gender theory).  Etta is the first newborn I've ever wanted to hold, or kiss, or have anything much to do with really.  And now she's here I'm terrified I will break her due to total ignorance, even though I know basic baby first aid stuff (baby first aid is WAY easier than grown up first aid).

I still feel like myself, but it's like a shell-shocked version of me.  Interacting with people outside of hospital/birthing units in the first few days felt like communicating with people on some other planet.  Also, hormones are a bitch.  I spent, and still spend a lot of time crying - over important and unimportant things.  Over news items with ducks in them, and cheesy children's books.

And because I've been working on this post for two weeks now I'm going to cap it there.  Next up I'll probably write about C Section recovery and post pregnancy body stuff.  Stay turned for some time in the future where I've had more than two hours sleep...

* Nearly three weeks on I'm still finding stuff I've missed.

** Besides the lovely vegans of course.  And most Coeliac's I know.  And the lactose intolerant.  I know there's a sizeable list, but you know what I mean.  Cheese is awesome!