Yesterday, I wrote about giving birth to Tori. But I also want to record the days immediately following before it all fades away… so the next time I’m thinking about having a baby, I remember that it’s not all kittens and rainbows! So here we go again…
I couldn’t really tell you how long we were in recovery, but it seemed like a very long time indeed. Eventually though, they decided that we were going to make it and wheeled us back to our room.
They put me next to all the pinging machine things, and Tori’s aquarium took its place by the foot of the bed. Moments later, my parents rushed in, half convinced that something terrible had happened to us (the surgery got started late, and recovery took longer than anyone expected).
All those thoughts were forgotten, however, when they saw their baby grand daughter. I don’t think I’ve ever seen quite that expression on my dad’s face – part wonder, part love, and part disbelief. I wish I had gotten a picture of it…
At this point I was starting to feel very, very ill indeed. Lemme tell you – retching after being cut in half is no fun at all. For the rest of the afternoon, every time I tried to hold Tori, another bout of nausea would strike, and I’d have to hand her off to Brian or risk puking in her cute little face.
It was terrible. Plus, I couldn’t feel my legs. And neither Tori or I could seem to get the hang of breastfeeding. And every single time I drifted off to sleep, a nurse would come poke at me (this pattern continued, non-stop, for the next four days). It was not a good afternoon.
But it wasn’t all bad. Seeing Brian gaze down at his baby girl was a sight I don’t think I’ll ever forget. And watching the nurse teach him how to change a diaper was fairly hilarious. And, and, there was Tori! Our baby! And holy shit, we really made that! And thank God, she’s actually pretty cute!
Yes, I really said that (every pregnant woman secretly prays her baby isn’t ugly. most just won’t admit it). One thing I gotta say about C-sections – the babies are much more photogenic when they come out. No squished heads. No bruises. None of that.
Eventually, the nausea passed, and I was able to hold her close, count all her little fingers and toes, and marvel that this little person had really just been inside me. That’s when I fell in love.
And people? Nothing’s been quite the same since.