Right before they cut me open, the idea of me being pregnant didn't really sink in. I know some say that 9 months is too long. Personally, I think it's too short. When I went in for my first round of induction ( I had to do two, both failed) the nursery was half way complete, he was still missing a few things here and there and our house was a total mess. No place for a newborn baby. Bottom line is I wasn't ready. So when the first round of induction failed I knew it was for the best. Despite the humiliation of returning home without a baby. I spent the next two days cleaning the house, buying the things that we still need for the baby before being admitted into the hospital again.
We tried everything and I still didn't go into labour. Not even a tiny bit of pain. They monitor the baby's heart for distress and nothing was wrong. After 3 days of trying, the doctor had us seated and layed out our only option, caesarean.
It was at 2am and my husband and I were not willing to give up. I had no pain, the baby was doing fine so we decided to wait until mid morning. That way we are both rested and be able to sleep on it. My husband went home and I was taken off the IV drip. At 6am the doctor was anxious for our decision. Since nothing happened during the night we decided to go ahead with the caeserian. We were scheduled for theatre at 9am however another pregnant woman was rushed in for an emergency c-section so we were rescheduled.
We had to wait the whole day, finally at 5pm the aesthetician came and told me to get ready if I want the baby now. Before any more emergency. At 5:22pm I heard his first cry, there was no emotion I just wanted to see what he looked like. They brought this white baby to me and because I was still under anaesthetic I was not able to hold him. They whisk him away with my husband and I had to endure another 40 minutes of the surgeon stitching me up. When they wheeled me back into my room, my husband was there with the baby, both of them were shirtless and cuddling. Was a sight I will never forget. We couldn't keep my mother inlaw and sister inlaw away. They were allowed into the labour ward which normally wasn't encouraged until the mother and child are in their respective recovery rooms.
The first night went well I was still high on pain medication but was able to pick up Leonce from his bassinet. He was a big baby and my milk didn't come in yet so the poor little thing was screaming the whole night. The stay in the hospital was tough on me, because the nurses were strict on how much express milk they would give to a baby. They want to encourage mothers to breastfeed the newborns. It worked well for 2.5kg~ baby not for my 4.5kg man. The help and show-how my husband and I received prepared us for when we get home.
For the first time I realized that raising a baby is really cultural. The dos and do nots each culture promotes and encourages. In the end I decided to stick with my intuition and what I believe in, there's the Swiss way, the islander way and my way.
Six days later after my stitches were removed I decided that I was ready to go home. The first hour back home it finally hit me,I have a baby and a lot of things are going to change. I was really exhausted and just looking at my son a terrible thought cross my mind. I started crying because I felt guilty, here is an innocent baby and all I want to do at that moment was to return him to the hospital. I guess not having the nurses around to help me made me feel so helpless. My husband was really understanding and helped me get through the day. A friend of mine who recently had a baby helped me realise that a baby is not the end of your career or lifestyle. You just have a little man who is reliant on you but with careful planning and adjusting you can still have that same lifestyle.
The next few days I felt better, love being a new mum and slowly I start to bond with my son. But bonding was difficult during the first 2 weeks. Partly because it was strange for me a colored woman to have a white baby.
There were the sleepless nights, constant diaper changing and sore breast but nothing major. Days turn into months and it got easier and easier.
Today my son is 5 and a half months old! I'm back working and 2kgs away from pre-pregnancy weight. And watching him become more and more independent I long for the days when he needed me to rock him to sleep. 
No comments:
Post a Comment