Pregnancy Diaries: Birth

The Fourth Trimester. Part I: The Hospital

Photo by Aditya Romansa on Unsplash

This one’s a doozy. You’ve been terrified of how barbaric giving birth is all through your pregnancy. There’s no winning here, when it comes to the pain, the bleeding, the recovery- regardless of the type of birth you have- whether it’s ‘natural’ or not.

But when D-Day finally rolls around, you check into the hospital like it’s a hotel room. You’ve waited so long for this day, and it’s finally here! You’ve done your nails and hair, you’ve packed your luggage. You’re in a surprisingly positive mindset before a major surgery.

You’re now thankful that you’re having a planned C-section. A few of your friends have gone through the pain of labor, only to have an emergency C-section in the end. You can’t imagine a worse combination of pain and uncertainty.

You’re calm when you’re wheeled into the theatre, and the procedure itself is very quick — administering the epidural and the IV drip is actually more awkward than the surgery. It’s so quick in fact, that your husband barely has time to process its started. He’s sweetly prepared to go through some of your most precious memories to keep you distracted, but almost as soon as he’s begun, the baby is here! You’re shocked and simultaneously relieved when you hear the baby’s first cry.

For the first time in your pregnancy, life mirrors the movies. Your husband instantly bursts into tears when he sees the baby. Amazingly, you forget that you’re cut open and your organs are exposed: all you want to do is hold your little one. You can’t believe you made this perfect and delicate little human.

She’s taken away before you know what hit you- and then the operation continues. You’re told you will sleep the entire day after the surgery, but you’re so wired that you’re already awake when they’re stitching you up. You’re surprisingly okay given the heady mix of painkillers you are on. You register that the catheter is uncomfortable; you lie there helplessly on an IV drip as you’re sponged through the day. You aren’t able to walk for the first hour- but somehow- and you really hadn’t expected this- the baby makes it all worthwhile.

Hilariously, you’ve been so focused on the negative impact labor and postpartum is going to have on you, that you haven’t really spent that much time looking forward to actually having a baby. You’re so thrilled with her, it confuses you. What is it about her being so small and helpless and wide-eyed that you love so much?

You find it impossible to process that you made her: she is so entirely yours. Sorry, daddy.

She’s tiny and grateful- she can barely cry when she’s hungry. The first latch is magical. You haven’t even had a chance to worry about your milk supply, but your baby is a champion. She instantly knows what she’s doing: she shows you what to do. And you’re happy to be led by this little one. And yet, she manages to keep your husband and you up all night with her constant and relentless need for comfort and food. You’re both destroyed, and so happy. You already lean into the newborn snuggles, even while your stitches are fresh, and it hurts to laugh or cough.

You push yourself to walk on the second day. You can only take a few steps, you’re disoriented, you need help going to the bathroom, but you’re happy to make trips in a wheelchair to feed your baby. Despite all the physical inconvenience, the battle is still mental. You’re more terrified of having the pain kick in in a severe way, than anything else. You’re extremely paranoid that you’re stitches are going to open or they won’t heal properly or you’re going to get an infection or have a severe drop of hemoglobin. In fact, in real time, despite how incapacitated you are, it’s your husband and mother who are more uncomfortable than you when they take turns sleeping on the tiny couch next to your hospital bed.

After vaguely hoping you wouldn’t have too many problems with your milk supply (you’ve heard the horror stories about clogged ducts, mastitis, babies who can’t or won’t latch) you’re still shocked to suddenly have your breasts fill full of milk. It is so real, so physical to have a baby suckle at your breast, to need you so much. You’re already bleeding and cut open: and now you’re leaking! Still- and you could never have predicted this- after getting used to the slightly strange feeling of suckling- you really enjoy feeding your baby. Whether it’s the oxytocin or the connection you have with the baby, you really enjoy creating this very specific food that your child needs and wants and can’t survive without.

Over the next couple of days, you’re relearning to walk, you still need help getting out of bed, and you definitely still look very pregnant: but you’re relatively well settled. The pain isn’t as bad as you imagined. You make friends with the nurses: the hospital staff is so caring and supportive of both the baby and you. You even end up enjoying the hospital food- both you and your husband look forward to each meal, and he cutely tries to sneak food off your plate. You’ve banned all visitors besides your immediate family, and it’s the right move. You need the privacy. You love cuddling with your husband and the baby: you’ve already adjusted to there being three of you now.

But you can’t stay there forever, of course. All vacations come to an end. Ironically, it’s your father who pushes you to leave. As a doctor, he has a healthy fear of hospitals: he knows first-hand how easy it is get infected or over-treated. You finally check out on the fourth day, and now it really is just the two of you and the baby. Congratulations: you’re officially responsible for another life!