Let me just preface this by stating a solid fact that has been proven time and time again: I am the biggest baby and most dramatic person in the world. I also tend to exaggerate…A LOT. But I’m sure most new Mom’s can relate to some of the pain I went through during my hospital stay after delivery:
The first day of my recovery was spent in bed fearing the nurses. I’m not sure what it is like with a natural birth, but the “massaging” that they do to help with clotting and the shrinking of your uterus was not something I was prepared for. It just made me want to die (or kill my husband…those feelings alternated).
I also spent the most part of the first day trying to get comfortable without moving. You don’t realize how much you use your stomach muscles until they’ve been ripped into two. The only thing you can do that doesn’t hurt is wiggle your fingers and blink…even moving my feet made my tummy ache. And nursing baby? I actually made my husband hold her for me one time just so I didn’t have to feel the pressure of her on my belly. (At this moment I am seriously laughing so hard I’m crying about this…but it was not so funny then).
The second day was much better until the nurse from hell walks in. She informs me that she’s “taking out my catheter and getting me out of bed”. WHAT?! I was so pathetic…I actually BEGGED the nurse to let me keep my catheter for just 12 more hours. She refused and that’s when it hit me…I’m actually going to have to get out of bed.
It wasn’t 5 minutes after she took that dang thing out that she wanted me doing a lap around the nurses station. It took me 10 minutes to get my feet on the floor and stand up (with the help of the nurse and my husband). I didn’t realize how sore I was from just laying there for over 24 hours! I shuffled my feet over to hall, whining the whole way. It took an eternity to walk 30 feet. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath because of the pain, at the end of the hallway I had to stop just so I could huff and puff.
I will never forget passing a mirror and looking at my reflection. I hadn’t showered for 48 hours, my hair and face was a mess. My hospital gown was half open and I was bent over like a 90 year old women with a walker. The lowest point? That freakin nurse walking by and saying “oh look at you walking around, I told you it wouldn’t be so bad!” I hate her.
After the 5 hours it took to get back to the room I just looked at the hospital bed and stared. How was I going to get back in that thing? My husband helped me back into bed and I told him I was never getting up again. A few hours later the nurse comes along and tells me she wants me to try 3 laps. Sure, why not? Let’s just have me run a marathon while I’m up!!
That evening I was exhausted and sore but realized I REALLY needed to shower. That made me feel so much better but made me realize that even brushing my hair was going to be a task with that stupid stomach incision. After a few more laps around the floor, I called it a night.
I woke up on the 3rd day with a nurse telling me “it’s time to go hoooome!” WHAT?! How could they send me home?! I was still in a hospital gown and couldn’t get out of bed myself. I looked at my husband like “this is a mistake, she thinks I’m someone else”. An hour later she comes it and in the nicest way possible tells me to get my sorry butt out of bed and get dressed…I’m going HOME.
So, I got dressed (very slowly) and we packed our things and we went home. The car ride was terrible…I felt like my stomach weighed a 100 lbs and felt every bump. But I made it in one piece.
As soon as I walked in the door I felt better. It is amazing what being at home can do for your recovery. I think a lot of my pain and suffering was totally mental…if you are in a hospital then you are sick, right?
So don’t dread the words: “You are going home.” Just take deep breaths, say a little prayer and get dressed…you’ll do fine!