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Life with the baby: The Hospital and Week 1

My hospital stay was somewhat unremarkable. The nurses kept coming in touching me in a variety of ways that I had previously required drinks and dinner before I consented to them. I’d go into detail but while it’s essential, it’s kind of gross. Also, I don’t want to spoil it for all of the other women who will have to go through it. Everyone should be surprised like I was!

The baby did well. She latched onto the breast like a pro. She was committed to eating and she would look at us in amazement as if thinking, “how did I get here? Are these really my people?” She passed all of the tests before discharge. She could see, hear, and poop early on. However, there was a delay in her urinating. Our discharge was actually delayed a few hours because the child just would pee. Like someone who had spent too much time reading about babies I was afraid that she had a clogged duct of some sort and would require surgery. Ultimately she passed urine and they said that she was free to go.

I left the hospital with a smile on my face and a heart full of trepidation. This precious, fragile thing had been entrusted in my care. However, they forgot to give me an instruction manual! As I waited in my wheel chair to leave the hospital I kept thinking “why did they let me take this baby home when I am ill equipped to deal with her?!”

Fortunately, my and sister and mother were there for the first week. Since my mother had raised three children I knew that nothing would happen to the baby under her watch. (My sister didn’t have much experience, but she was an extra set of hands and is always good for comic relief!)

Despite her never receiving a diagnosis, and no one saying that the baby might have a clogged duct of some sort, I remained concerned about the clogged duct issue when I got home. I didn’t share my concerns with anyone initially. I just kept changing her diapers desperately searching for wetness. In spite of my efforts, there appeared to be poop, poop and more poop, but pee was hard to find. My thoughts ran wild, “Was she peeing?” “Why did they trust me to bring her home again?” “And why isn’t my mother paranoid too? I thought she had done this before. Surely she should be concerned too?” Before I got myself too worked up, the baby peed on me. I guess she could read my mind!

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