| Jesus was my co-pilot, but we crashed into the mountains and I had to eat him |
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adult child of alien invaders
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| Home! |
[26 Nov 2009|03:03pm] |
Came home yesterday only to have the hospital people call me about our needing to pick up these papers Woof claimed don't exist, sent W back after a particularly enjoyable "I told you so" and stayed in bed for the rest of the day. Apparently "don't lift anything heavier than your baby" doesn't just apply to other people, but also to me. Who'd a thunk? I am Officially Weak, and seem to have set back my recovery by a good bit by insisting I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own laptop backpack and handbag and going through with it -- for a few hundred metres, anyway -- before pretty much collapsing in pain. Go team me! And my haemoglobin is 90, which is freaky-scary. Trying to eat an iron rich diet and retain some semblance of bowel function (surgical incision on my lower belly means I can't even cough, remember?) ... hyaaaaargh. Good thing I have so-called belly friendly, slow-acting iron supplements.
Kid is both cute and ravenous: the milk bar is and has been open for most of the last two hours, and the only interruptions seem to be naps and superpoops. Woof gets to change her, of course, since I'm so weak. We're still climbing uphill with the cloth diapering -- the learning curve is much more substantial than with disposables -- but it's getting easier all the time. Right now we're doing prefolds with boosters and PUL wraps or woolen soakers in the daytime and will go with either disposables or fitted diapers with wool in the night: what works better remains to be seen. The fitteds are a little loose around the thigh region, but that should get better in a few weeks at most.
And for those who made it this far, here's your bonus! Have a look at something totally unrelated but funny enough to need sharing.
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| And now a word from our advertisers |
[24 Nov 2009|07:10am] |
Breastfeeding is pretty awesome, or started being so when I discovered this. And it's so easy! I'm not saying she'll always latch on perfectly (although she mostly does) or that we're rocking a variety of positions at the first try (although we mostly do) or that boob juice always calms her down (although it mostly does) or that it was totally painless at first (although it mostly is, except for the first half a minute or in pre-lansinoh times) ... but things have been smooth sailing so far. Of course this also means I'm not getting a whole load of sleep, but I'm confident this'll get better when we master the sidelying position.
ETA: the nurse just brought me my breakfast and said Blob's weight gain is supreme. Not surprised.
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| LET ME OUT OF HERE! |
[23 Nov 2009|07:42pm] |
Was visited by some happy physiotherapy people today, got to try some rehab exercises and was given a fact sheet on such. I find the contrast between "lift your pelvis to six o'clock, now to twelve o'clock" and training to bench, squat or deadlift however many times my own body weight a little disturbing, but whatcha going to do?
I hear I am recovering well: I can walk (at first hunched, then pretty normally once I've been up for a few minutes), pick up m'Blob and carry her around, roll to my side, pull myself up with my arms only (ok, this I was told to not to do because it's not helping with the rehab, but it's what kept me mobile for the first days when my core was totally shred to pieces), blabla. Now that my much-abused womb is getting closer to its non-pregnant state of being, the only real pains I have seem to be local to the incision site and my crotch. OK, I have some aching behind my right shoulder blade, too, but I can blame my Macbook use in a less than perfectly ergonomic position for that.
They want to keep me here for at least a day or two still, so while I'm going to be a pain in the ass to anyone who'll listen about wanting to go home tomorrow, this might take until Wed. Blob has been examined, bent, poked and had her heel pricked, found perfectly normal and good to go home, so I'm the one keeping us here.
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| OMG |
[22 Nov 2009|10:48am] |
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Holy fuck! I can walk and hold the baby at the same time! Maybe this recovery business won't take that long after all.
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| notes from the front |
[22 Nov 2009|06:25am] |
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Marathon nursing + c-section scar + needing to pee badly = yet another instance of "oh, shit."
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| M'section, or "Why wait until I figure out how I feel about it" |
[21 Nov 2009|11:37pm] |
I'm typing this from my hospital room with Blob-cum-Selma resting on my chest. She's slept soundly for a few hours now, and I just know she'll wake up when I want to go to sleep, ravage my poor nipples and then realise she's gassy enough to need burping, something I found myself unable to do last night. Tonight might be better, but I'm slow on my feet and unable to do just about anything that requires more than a midgen of ab action. I've realised most things do. Major abdominal surgery and the recovery from such? NO FUN.
( M'section -- it's like three births in one, with an extra serving of crazy )
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| Can has baby! |
[21 Nov 2009|01:10pm] |
And totally not in the way I planned. Two words: emergency c-section. ("Oh, shit" works, too.) At least this one was absolutely, totally, no-questions-asked necessary. (A priori: fetal malpresentation, a posteriori: fetal malpresentation because Blob was trying to hang itself on a four-times-around-the-throat umblical cord and couldn't get its head a proper angle to dilate my cervix the last cm and make it through, THANKFULLY. If it had, we'd probably be looking at a dead baby, not poor little Conehead.)
Update coming sometime in the future, since I need to now figure out how to put away a sleeping baby (on my arms) and a Macbook (propped against my thighs) and go pee. They took away my catheter -- totally the best bit after five months of running to the loo -- some hours ago, so I'm forced to make my way to the loo like an old lady. Old, pained lady that swears like a sailor.
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| Wsfgh |
[19 Nov 2009|03:36pm] |
Oaaaargh, it's like this will never be over. And I'm disappointed by Woof, who won't let me punch him in the gut or squeeze his testicles in the spirit of fun and fairness. THIS IS SO UNFAIR.
Contractions = total shit deal, but the pain is still nowhere near gastric hell or even the recent kidney trouble. Fuck this hippie shit about opening up like a flower though, I just want this damn thing over with.
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| The eternity project continues |
[19 Nov 2009|08:37am] |
Stayed up until four something ay ehm because there was no way I could've slept through my contractions, then had the presence of mind to try sleeping between them. Totally doable! Mine were nice enough to arrange themselves in a more spacious pattern from the preceding four minute nastiness: I woke up every ten minutes and went oooOOOOOaaaaaaRRRRggggHHHH THAT HURT for the delight of Woof, checked my mobile for the time and fell asleep again. The rest was much needed, too, and I got up in time to greet the sun and to expel some more bloody mucus. A bit clung onto the piece of toilet paper I wiped with, so I wobbled over to the bedroom to show it to Woof, who told me he'll take my word it's jiggly and that he doesn't need to poke it to believe me. Where's his sense of adventure and fun?!
Turns out all those birthing guides were right: the pain is incapacitating when I lie down vs pretty tolerable when I don't. Just sitting up, properly, helps to mute it to the level of a nasty period. And not my nastiest, either.
Dreamt Woof had plugged himself into some type of electric torture outlet, which was jacked to a setting called "masochistic cheerleader". He grabbed my hand and I woke up to another installation of oooOOOOaaaaaRRRRRggggHHHH.
Woof dreamt we got a fish instead of a baby. It was eyeless, because its eye sockets had to be inspected for STIs (?!).
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