A New Normal

It was weird coming home today to the normalcy of home life — a dog-haired rug, a pile of shoes at the front door, an overflowing recycling bin. All of it stood in stark contrast to the sterile environment of the hospital. There were also signs of a quick exit, unfinished business, remains of early labor — dirty dishes still soaking in the sink, pad wrappers and bloody tissue paper in the bathroom garbage, a printed handout describing the different stages of labor, the crumpled up sheets of contractions in bed. We had left the house five days earlier, a couple nervous, excited and me, mostly in pain. And we came back today a whole different couple, still nervous, excited and me mostly in pain. But we carried with us a brand new life — a daughter — and nothing has been the same. 

Already signs of a baby are scattered throughout the house — vases of flowers brought to the hospital, baby blankets and cloths and Boppys laying around, a changing table in use, a tube of lanolin cream on the couch, a co-sleeper in the bedroom. And the coos, cries and sighs of Acacia. 

My nipples are sore, it’s almost 11 p.m. and Scott and I are hoping to get in some sleep before the next feeding. But instead, I write. There are too many moments and events that’ve occurred since Tuesday to possibly write then all down, as much as I want to remember it all. 

Some of it was nice — soaking in the hospital labor room bath tub, sipping on iced apple juice and concentrating on electric candle lights when a contraction kicked in. Or, after feeling so much pain, floating in epidural heaven, joking with Scott and feeling so confident in a vaginal delivery.

Then so much of it was bloody and traumatic — trying to vacuum the baby out during the final attempts of vaginal labor and, of course, the cesarian section. My first surgery. It was all so chaotic, lying on the table, arms spread out as if on a cross, a light blue curtain in front of me hiding the terror that was happening to my body on the other side. Though, was it terror if what came from it was a 7-pound, 4-ounce bundle of life, who had been waiting in the birth canal for hours and then retreated to more familiar territory, so wisely, prior to surgery? There were far too many people in the cold operating room for my mind to quiet down, too many noises and bright lights, so instead I allowed myself to fade away. Scott was by my side although I don’t know when he got there. What I recall is, before even realizing the possibility was even there, hearing the cries of a baby, and wondering, ‘Is that mine?’ It seemed so soon. And then I started to shiver and shake, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. There was no mind over body. The anesthesiologist got me more covers but nothing could stop me from shaking. People tried talking to me, asking me questions, as if I wasn’t under drugs or getting my uterus sewn up, and I’m pretty sure I ignored them, not worrying about coming off rude. 

After a brief sighting when I was shivering far too much in the operating room, I finally really met Acacia at 4 a.m., two hours after she was born, when I was in the hospital room I would remain in for four days. She was too beautiful for me to fully believe. To be cliche, it was love at first sight. 

Scott, Acacia and I fell asleep around 5 a.m. and when I heard the nurse in the room around 7 a.m. and a stirring Acacia, I woke up knowing, ‘That’s my baby. My baby,’ and feeling a pride and joy I’ve never known before. 

What followed was several days spent primarily in a hospital bed, most of it a blur — the revolving door of nurses and doctors, blood takers, house keeping, visitors, meal tray delivery, meal tray pick up. Acacia and I were poked and prodded over and over. She was weighed, naked. I was hooked up to a narcotic drip. I needed coaching the first time I stood up after the surgery, still hooked up to a catheter. I needed help going to the bathroom, putting on gauzy hospital underwear. I needed help for a lot of things. Acacia spent the final day wrapped in a glow of artificial blue light, fighting jaundice. 

Grogginess is winning right now. I must go to bed.