Today I am home sick recovering from a kidney infection. Thought I'd take some time to write about my post-partum period.
Actually, just scanned over the previous blog entry and it's amazing to think about how I actually WENT THROUGH a natural delivery of my Sonja. I DID IT. And from what I've been asked about her delivery by other women-mothers or not-I am finding more and more that I am definitely in the very small minority of mothers of not only elect not finding out the sex, but also choosing natural childbirth. Nope, I didn't have an epidural or any other medication...except something to stop the bleeding after Sonja was born. I choose this route for many reasons. If there has to be a single compelling reason why, I think it would be that I really don't like following the crowd. This doesn't mean that I go out of my way to buck the current trend or poke holes in common ways of accomplishing things in life. I like to know what sets me apart from the crowd. I am not saying that women who elect to use medication to ease delivery should not be proud of themselves for their monumental accomplishment. I wanted to find out for myself that child labor is actually possible without the utilization of drugs. (confession: I actually stated on my birth plan that I didn't want meds unless I asked for them as a last resort...and I did ask for them only once right before it was time to push. I was gently reminded by our doula that my goal was to go without any drugs. Despite all the pain I was in, I felt a little sheepish.) I wanted to prepare myself mentally as much as I could prior to labor. I am tenacious. I didn't want myself or my baby to to experience the side effects of drugs; I wanted to be as alert and oriented-albeit exhausted- as possible. I wanted to really discover what I was made of deep down.
I truly am surprised at the number of women who shudder at the concept of natural childbirth, as if pain is something to be greatly feared. They do not see yet that it is pain with a purpose. Actually, the more a woman laboring tenses up, the harder it is to get through the contractions. The easiest (if I can call it that!) way to get through the pain is to give yourself over to it.
After Sonja was born, I was wheeled down to the post-partum floor. My body ached for sleep and a good, hot meal. I was so weak the day I gave birth, it didn't even occur to me to wash my face, brush my teeth, much less to shower. Joe and I made several phone calls to family members and friends announcing the birth of Sonja- and, wouldn't you know it, Sonja's arrival made it on Facebook before we even had a moment to announce it ourselves. I wanted to tell people personally and honestly, finding out people were waiting for Facebook postings rather than our phone call was disheartening. The whole aspect of exactly when after our child's birth was to be posted it on Facebook was something that didn't even occur to us until I was about 39 weeks pregnant. I was so delirious with my pregnancy that I really didn't feel like micromanaging announcements of our baby's birth- can't people just be patient and wait for a phone call like in the olden days? Post-partum is nothing short of a WHIRLWIND. Not only was my threshold for pain tested to the limits of what it can tolerate this side of losing my mind, my voice was horribly raspy because of my crying out during labor. Nevertheless, we dutifully worked our way down our list of people to call.
Lactation specialists, nurses, and midwives visited our room intermittently, dispensing advice for how to nurse, how to take care of myself, how to this, and how to that. And they came on their own time. It didn't matter that I was in the middle of eating, the lactation specialist was going to teach me how to nurse my daughter NOW. It didn't matter that we were in the middle of a phone call, we had to wrap it up so the midwife could tell me about post-partum depression. I remember nurses coming in at all hours of the day and night, giving us various papers to sign. I could've signed my life away for all I know. We tried so hard to pay attention to every bit of professional advice given to us, and I hope between the two of us, we remember most of it. The important parts, at least.
My side of the family came as soon as they could to visit about 12 hours after Sonja's birth. There's a certain wonder about a family welcoming the very first grandchild and great-grandchild. We could hardly believe that she was actually REAL. As I've mentioned before, Sonja was born on Joe's 29th birthday. The brand new Grandma Lindquist (my mother in law) sent a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, a bunch of peonies (how did she know they were my favorites?), and "It's a girl!" balloons. We now have to figure out how to celebrate both Joe's and Sonja's birthdays from now on.
I remember falling asleep the first night in post-partum and being jarred awake by my daughter's cries to be fed. When we went to sleep that first night, I think both of us had completely forgotten about the fact our daughter would be waking us every couple of hours throughout the night for feedings and diaper changings. I don't know what I would've done with Joe's help. I was in no situation to get out of bed even every few hours to care for her. Joe heard her cries and diligently got up each time because I couldn't.
When it was time to discharge the next day, my family came and had a time getting Sonja's new car seat strapped in...in the rain, no less. I was so happy to bring our daughter home. We were HOME. The three of us.
