First Steps

Nope, not mine. My son's. My family brought my son to visit me after a few days. Not being able to hold him and snuggle was almost worse than not being able to see him at all. I was under strict order not to lift or hold anything over 10 pounds for the next four weeks. I still hadn't ventured out of my hospital bed, so this seemed like no big deal at the time. I got to kiss him and talk to him, but he was busy and squirmy and wanted to crawl around, testing his relatively new prowess on all fours. I learned later during my stay that he started walking around with use of a baby activity walker thing. I wasn't there. I wasn't even in the same area code. This crushed my new mommy heart, but I tried to be excited for him and his progress. This was not at all how it was supposed to go. I had imagined the event long before he was ever born. The memory was filmed with a hazy filter, in slow motion with instrumental music and me holding his sweet little hands, perhaps in a field of daisies. Stupid parenting magazines make it all look so beautiful and serene. I hated to think that the world was still spinning even though I wasn't much a part of it. I'm such a control freak that I prefer to think that everything freezes when I'm not an active part of things. Days 5-10 just kind of melted together in a mash up of the Discovery Channel, naps, visits from friends and family and really unappetizing foods. The nurses made me go on short walks every few hours which should have felt good, but were mostly just exhausting. The first time I got to take a shower was a blessed event, the highlight of my day. I got to switch from hospital gowns to actual pajamas, it was then I knew that I was really going places! When my catheter was removed I was informed that my bladder was nearly twice the size of a normal woman's bladder, a condition (a super-power, I like to think) that I was apparently born with. I always knew I wasn't normal, so this was no surprise to me, although it did answer a few questions. The surgeon and his pre-pubescent interns came to visit me and check me over one last time. I was doing great, but had to keep the tube that was draining pus and other undesirables had to stay in for the time being. Having to cart around a tube with a ball full of pus isn't a great way to win friends and influence people and draining it was a totally disgusting procedure. They were feeling like I could go home soon as long as I took it easy and didn't pick up or carry around my son. I'm not sure what I did, but somehow I convinced them to let me go home that night. I probably just told them I was doing it anyway, I don't remember. They had a nurse come in and give me a bunch of inoculations against pneumonia, tetanus and a whole host of other things. Being spleen-less in a germy world isn't a desirable status I guess. The shots hurt like a mother, but I didn't care. I was just ready to make my grand exit and go home! I still had a few other tests to pass before I got the green light to go....