Sofia was due on June 15th. After a week of Nada, my Ob/Gyn decided to have me induced. I wasn't all that happy about it, but at least we'd be getting a move on. Monday, we checked ourselves into the hospital, but by Wednesday evening, despite several painful attempts at induction, still Nada. Overdue Day 10 was the next day, June 25th, and it was time. I cried a lot that evening: Andrea and I had read books, taken courses, talked to friends. We'd psyched ourselves up for natural childbirth. And now...now that was all flying out the window. But, my awesome husband reminded me that, just 20 years ago, both the baby and I would probably not have even made it, and so we picked ourselves up and looked on the bright side.
Fast-forward to post-birth. Me in pain from not eating since my Monday hospital arrival, just having undergone a C-section, with a husband who'd slept on a chair for 3 nights straight, in a hospital without a nursery, favoring "rooming in" (which, by the way, I totally *get* and, under normal conditions, would have been completely in favor of -- in my situation, though, I/we could have used a couple hours rest). And a baby who wasn't all that into sleeping - what, after having tried to break out of Fort Knox for the past 3 days, to no avail. She was probably (rightfully) pissed!
I won't go through every single detail now, but things progressed fairly badly. I was in pain and recovering, Andrea was flailing. It was HOT at the end of June and we had a LOT of visitors in the hospital, neither of us strong enough to beg for some privacy. And then...there were the breastfeeding issues.
Sofia was and is a *hungry* baby. And so, despite seemingly latching on properly (even my lactatian consultant said so, we went to her every Friday morning!), she destroyed me, literally - my doctor actually sent me to a plastic surgeon at one point to see if I needed fixing up. I got two consecutive cases of mastitis and dreaded, dreaded, dreaded feeding time.
After a month of all this pain and suffering, Andrea and I decided it would be best to start pumping. And so that started, and I continued (with, however, undo pressure put on myself, in hindsight) for 10 months -- regardless of where I was, what we had to do, time of day, my needs...pumping came first, for 10 full months. I would pump and, often, Andrea would feed Sofia. And feeding time became their bonding time.
There was a day back in the beginning where I realized at about 8pm at night that I hadn't put my glasses on all day, while I normally wear them at all hours. There were times when I would dread being alone with Sofia because I felt inept, incapable, afraid. Sometimes, Andrea will bring up something that went on those first few weeks and I recall nothing. Maybe it was the fever from the mastitis, maybe it was depression or simply me being all up in my head, trying to take it all in, from the inside-out. Whatever it was, Sofia and I got off to a rocky start. And so, even more reason to rejoice where we are now - as full of obstacles as the road has been, and continues to be (um, still not fully sleeping...), we've come a long way, baby!
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