We were able to spend about an hour in the labor and delivery room before being moved to recovery.
It was nice, mostly because our little family of three was in this little bubble of denial…denial that life really was changing forever. Denial that we would soon be solely responsible for Kellan’s well being. Denial that life was about to get really hard…yet extremely rewarding.
The nurses had cleaned all the blood off of the floor, which was probably for the best, considering it looked like someone had slaughtered a very large animal. I have no idea how that much blood came out of me without my needing some kind of medical intervention.
Tim and I noticed they had missed a small spot to the right of the bed…but we were too consumed with Kellan to make a big deal about it.
After a bit, a nurse came in to remove the epidural from my back. In order to keep the line annd tube in place, they had put a loooooong piece of tape on my back.
(I don’t remember any nurse names after Laura. My brain was too tired to remember that kind of unnecessary information)
Anyhow, the nurse apologized before she gave my back a “wax job.”
And holy goats. Ripping that tape off hurt like a SOB (an SOB?).
Then, probably to make me feel better – or really to try and get my blood sugar and energy up – the nurse brought me what she called a “tequila sunrise without the tequila.”
(After repeatedly asking for it once we got to recovery, I learned it was a combo of Sprite, OJ and cranberry juice)
And this tequila sunrise sans tequila? Heavenly. I had not eaten since dinner the day before and it was something like 9pm, so it had been waaaay over 24 hours, 17 of those in labor, since my body had any sustenance.
They also brought me a boxed lunch, since the cafeteria was closed. I tried to eat…but the most I managed was a cracker or two and a few bites of the sandwich. It was tuna. I wasn’t really feeling tuna. And I guess I still didn’t have much of an appetite.
Finally, before we were taken to a recovery room, the nurse made me waddle to bathroom to try to pee.
This is the dreaded Walk of Shame where you, a fully capable adult, have to be assisted in the bathroom. It’s not torture enough that you’re still half naked, swollen and bleeding everywhere…NOW you can’t even urinate without supervision.
I sat on the toilet for a few minutes all, “I’m pretty sure I don’t have to go…” so she had me stand up to walk back to the bed….
And then the room went fuzzy and I grabbed the wall all, “I’m feeling kinda light headed…”
I’m not entirely sure what happened other than the nurse grabbed my arm and sat me back down on the toilet (but I said don’t have to go?…..) while calling to Tim to tell him to find and bring her an alcohol swab. When he came to the bathroom door, Kellan in hand, he took one look at me and was like, “You’re white as a sheet!”
The nurse gave him a “No shit” look and then told him to page another nurse to bring smelling salts while she ripped the swab open and wafted it under my nose.
Another nurse rushed in all, “Is everything ok?? It’s usually not good when the dad is paging the nurse….”
My nurse filled her in and found that smelling salts were hard to come by, since the nurse who rushed in also brought alcohol swabs.
Future reference – that alcohol swab trick really works.
Tim told me later that he was freaking out inside, wondering how anyone expected him to keep Kellan from crying while they were helping me not get a concussion.
Once I was guided back into bed, the nurse started pushing around on my bladder (I forgot to mention that they also do a lot of pushing on your uterus right after you give birth. The nurse doing the pushing had me put my hand on my stomach to feel how much it had already shrunk and WOW. It went from being all up in my ribs to under my belly button in the span of mere minutes).
Apparently, my bladder was full and I couldn’t feel it, thanks to the epidural meds.
This meant more fun (NOT) for me, as the nurse had to straight cath me to empty my bladder.
I’m glad I was still numb because OUCHY! I could feel what she was doing, just not the pain associated with it.
A little while later, we were moved to recovery. Initially, the nurse wanted Tim to push our cart full of our bags AND the rolling bassinet that contained Kellan.
As we walked out (well, the nurse and Tim walked. I was in a wheelchair), we passed the nurses station where a nurse saw Tim trying to maneuver the bassinet and overflowing cart and was like, “Do you need some help?”
I didn’t even wait for him to answer, as I knew he was uncomfortable pushing a brand new baby – our son – and a cart full of heavy things, and blurted out, “YES. He does.”
The nurse came out from behind the desk, grabbed the cart of heavy things and took off towards our recovery room.
In our new room, we kept Kellan with us for a bit before deciding to send him to the nursery so we could get a few hours of sleep. I felt guilty doing so but knew I wouldn’t be any good to anyone without some rest.
(which didn’t really happen because I had what I thought at the time was serious heartburn…though in hindsight I think I squished/pinched my esophagus during all of the pushing).
Honestly, I don’t remember much of the hour and a half of pushing and eventual delivery.
Tim says it was because I went inside myself.
That’s probably exactly what happened, my body had a job to do, so it shut off my brain and just did it, though I vaguely remember telling him he wasn’t holding my leg the right way at one point.
And as for Tim, he says he remembers it all…and that his arms were tired from holding my leg…..(I’ll refrain from comment….).
Lastly, giving birth didn’t feel like taking a giant poop….there was a lot of pressure…but I was centered in a different area than the pooper hole.
And no, I didn’t poop on the table (yay!!).
And no, much to everyone’s surprise, I didn’t get the ‘roids (double yay!!)