A friend of mine just posted on Facebook about her new baby being born. Baby was born at 10:30, and someone posted at 1:30. Which, I am totally glad about, I LOVE how social media can help you to send good thoughts to people at the time they need it the most. And how you can think of them in real time.
Like what is happening 3 hours after you give birth.
The baby is probably gone, having all sorts of thorough checkups. And Mama? You are elated, but broke down. People are under the hood, maybe still checking things out. You're sitting on an ice diaper, nursing stitches. Or maybe you have the crazy relentless body racking chills that no one can explain. Or maybe you have tried to go to the bathroom and have realized that each task of human existence just became exponentially more difficult than it was three hours ago. Maybe the nurse is in the bathroom with you going over how to perform bodily functions without needing mega doses of Percoset (because we all know while that helps the pain, it just makes the deed WAAAAAY more difficult in the end.) Maybe you are realizing that after a normal delivery, Mama needs almost as much bathroom gear as the baby.
And then, time to eat! Not you, the baby. So in flies the S.W.A.T. team also known as lactation consultants who give your breasts more action than they have seen the whole nine months. You lose whatever shred of dignity you had after delivery when they arrive. Maybe you're a lucky one for whom it just clicks. But probably, there will be a lot of crying on everyone's part, as there is squeezing, nipping, biting, pulling, reaching, and all for a few teeny drops of what seems like nothing.
Like Gilligan, three hours can lead to life changing realizations.
But also... it might be that, three hours is exactly the moment where it is quiet. Where just you and your little one can focus on each other. Meet each other. Really see each other. Breathe each other in. Where you can sear things into your memory. Where you an realize that you have done this. You have waited for this. You are not the person you were three hours ago. This person has changed you into a mother. And you realize it is perfect.
Like what is happening 3 hours after you give birth.
The baby is probably gone, having all sorts of thorough checkups. And Mama? You are elated, but broke down. People are under the hood, maybe still checking things out. You're sitting on an ice diaper, nursing stitches. Or maybe you have the crazy relentless body racking chills that no one can explain. Or maybe you have tried to go to the bathroom and have realized that each task of human existence just became exponentially more difficult than it was three hours ago. Maybe the nurse is in the bathroom with you going over how to perform bodily functions without needing mega doses of Percoset (because we all know while that helps the pain, it just makes the deed WAAAAAY more difficult in the end.) Maybe you are realizing that after a normal delivery, Mama needs almost as much bathroom gear as the baby.
And then, time to eat! Not you, the baby. So in flies the S.W.A.T. team also known as lactation consultants who give your breasts more action than they have seen the whole nine months. You lose whatever shred of dignity you had after delivery when they arrive. Maybe you're a lucky one for whom it just clicks. But probably, there will be a lot of crying on everyone's part, as there is squeezing, nipping, biting, pulling, reaching, and all for a few teeny drops of what seems like nothing.
Like Gilligan, three hours can lead to life changing realizations.
But also... it might be that, three hours is exactly the moment where it is quiet. Where just you and your little one can focus on each other. Meet each other. Really see each other. Breathe each other in. Where you can sear things into your memory. Where you an realize that you have done this. You have waited for this. You are not the person you were three hours ago. This person has changed you into a mother. And you realize it is perfect.
This is why I love Facebook. Because right now, in real time, I can really think about how it must be for her. And I can remember how it really was for me.
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Been there, Done that.