Slowly getting to the point

As I've been writing out these stories and my feelings I have been slowing down. The faster I get through my previous experiences and recall the emotions of them, the faster I have to get to discussing my latest experience. There are so many things I'm not sure I've dealt with. I think writing it all out will help, but I'm also afraid of dredging up such fresh memories and trying to decide how I really feel about them. There were so many good things but so many difficult things that happened, so my recounting of my last birth may get a bit disjointed.

Recovery from VBAC

After my son was born I was so exhausted. I hadn't slept hardly at all the night before, and giving birth unmedicated was much more physically exhausting than I'd thought. The rest of the day after I had Jacob I mostly stayed in the hospital bed, only getting up to go to the bathroom.

The first time I tried going to the bathroom, I couldn't do it. Evidently it's possible for your bladder to be temporarily paralyzed from the trauma during delivery. That was extremely uncomfortable, needing to go but not being able to. A few hours later I was finally able to go, which was good because I didn't want to have a catheter. Things burned because of my tear, but I used the peri bottle to rinse off and that helped a lot.

The next day I got up more. There wasn't much to do besides wait to be discharged, so we just took care of the baby and got all our stuff together. I took a shower and got cleaned up. It was so nice not to be hunched over, and not have to worry about an incision. My stitches were a little annoying, but I sat on an ice pack frequently and wasn't in much pain. I did take pain killers because the afterpains were awful. I hadn't felt any with Jason because I'd been on so much meds, but this time I wasn't all drugged up and they hurt just as bad as labor contractions, so I took the extra strength Ibuprofen.

I felt very sore all over the day after he was born. Kind of how I felt the day after a car wreck in 2003. Like my muscles just ached. Muscles I never knew could hurt, did. But it really wasn't that bad, just achey.

We left the hospital the evening of June 2nd. It was surreal going home after just one day. When we got home my brother and sister-in-law brought Jason home, he'd stayed the night with them and visited us in the hospital once. He hadn't really cared for the baby at the hospital, but was very happy to have him at home. I nursed and then DH fell asleep on the couch with the baby while I got online to update everyone.

I recovered quickly, feeling pretty much normal after a week. My tear annoyed me a little longer. The first week I had to sit carefully and used a numbing spray and witch hazel pads constantly. But by about 2weeks it was only a minor annoyance.

The first 2 months Jacob was a great night sleeper. He would only wake once or twice a night. It was so nice to get some good sleep at night, especially because he was a horrible daytime napper. He hardly napped at all during the day and wanted to be held constantly. He was definitely not as easy-going as Jason had been, which was very frustrating. I had a hard time getting anything done because he was always in my arms and/or fussing. Plus he ate every hour all day long. It was a good thing that Jason has always been so good at keeping himself entertained, because I wasn't able to do much with him.

Unfortunately after the first 2 months his night-time sleeping got much worse too. He would wake up every hour, sometimes up to 10x a night, and continued this for nearly 7 months. I was exhausted all the time. My sweet DH started taking him the first half of the night with a bottle, and that kept me from going insane.

Emotionally this recovery was different as well.

On one hand I was still so proud of myself for being able to have a VBAC. I was thrilled at my success and happy to be able to feel like myself sooner. I felt strong and empowered. I no longer felt angry about my c-section. My feelings changed from sadness and regret over my c-section, to thankfulness. Without it I wouldn't have pushed myself to learn more that could help myself and others.

On the other hand, I did not bond with Jacob as easily as I had with Jason. I'd heard so many people say that many c-section mom have a hard time bonding with their baby and that natural birth created stronger bonds, etc. But my experience was the opposite. Of course I still loved him and would do anything for him, but I wasn't just enjoying spending time with him. I figured there were a few reasons for this.

First, I was so tired of having to hold him all the time and his fussing that I was frustrated with him a lot.

But I think the biggest hindrance to our bonding was my fault. All during his pregnancy and labor I'd been so focused on having a VBAC. I was focused on myself and what I could do. I prepared myself to have a VBAC, not a baby. Yes, I had wanted a baby, but I'd wanted to prove myself capable of giving birth and that was my goal. So when I had Jacob it was like, "Yay, I did it! I had a VBAC! Oh...um, I have a baby too, what do I do?!"

And I felt awful that I didn't bond as quickly or easily with Jacob. How could a mother love one child more than the other? I finally realized it wasn't about how much I loved them, I loved them both so so much, it was just shared differently with each child. As Jakey's personality grew I saw what a gently, loving boy he was. He was my "Momma's boy". He wanted me more than anything else and was always ready to give hugs and kisses. He craved affection and attention.

Slowly our bond grew stronger. I still love each boy differently, but it is not because I love one more than the other, it is just because their personalities require different shows of love. Just like adults want affection in different ways, so do children.

So, as you can see, both my physical and emotional recoveries were quite different from my first birth, easier in most ways but a little harder in ways I hadn't expected.

Empowered- The VBAC Birth of my Second Son

I had convinced myself that I was strong and that my body knew what to do, so when contractions started the day before my edd, I was excited to prove myself. The thought of uterine rupture never even came into my mind during my labor.

Tuesday, May 31, 2006- I had my OB strip my membranes at my appointment that day and within hours was having sporadic contractions. By 9:30pm they had become more evenly spaced and that is when I count the beginning of labor. Contractions continued 3-4 minutes apart most of the night. Good thing I didn't go in to the hospital based on timing or I would have been there a long time and probably ended up with more interventions and possibly a c-section. As it was, I again labored alone through the night, updating online friends and doing random chores, making sure everything was ready. At one point I sat and watched Jason sleeping peacefully and it was bittersweet to think this was my last night with just one child.
Wednesday, June 1, 2006- Around 7am my contractions slowed to 10 minutes apart and I was able to sleep between them for about an hour. I believe my body knew I needed some rest. At 8am they picked up again to about 6-7 minutes apart. My husband woke up and I told him this would be the day. Luckily at that time he had graduated from college and was working from home, so there was no need for him to worry about work or school that time.

We decided to head in to the chiropractor and stopped to eat at McDonald's on the way. I only ate some hashbrowns, funny how my body craves carbs in labor. My chiropractor made sure things were aligned and did some work loosening my muscles and it immediately cut my labor pain in half, it was wonderful. We then called our family to let them know what was going on. My mom headed up and DH's mom told us to call when we got to the hospital since she was in class at the time.

I labored at home for a few hours. Again my contractions were felt all in my back, but I had DH push on my lower back during each one and it helped immensely. My family showed up around noon and we headed to the hospital. They didn't have a bed ready right away so we sat in the waiting room for half an hour. My OB walked by and saw me there and was excited that she'd be seeing me again soon. At 12:30 they took us back to a room. Jason stayed out in the waiting room with family members.
I was checked at 1pm and found to be 7+cm already. I was so happy that I'd already gotten that far so easily. I let them know that I was not getting an IV and that my OB said a hep lock would be fine (IV port), and that I did not want them to offer me drugs. The first nurse seemed a little annoyed with my requests but luckily I only saw her once before a new nurse came in. They monitored me for a bit until I asked to walk the halls. My mom and I walked the halls and chatted, stopping every few minutes for me to lean against the wall and have her push against my lower back. I'm not to sure on the timeline from 1pm until the birth, but I think it was around 3pm when they had me stop walking to be checked again.

They couldn't tell if I had progressed any more because my bag of waters was bulging so much. They thought I was maybe 8cm and asked if I wanted them to break my water. I said that we would wait a little longer and see what happened. Eventually, maybe around 3:45 I agree to let them break it because I wanted to be done.
During this time I had a wonderful nurse. When I'd first arrived she had asked for my birth plan, read over it, and said "Great!". She stayed with me almost the whole time, suggesting different positions for me to try. I liked sitting on the birth ball, but that position was making the baby's heartrate drop so I wasn't able to stay there. I also liked being on my knees leaning into a pile of pillows, and stayed in that position for maybe half an hour until they wanted to put me on the monitors again.

By this point I was in transition and every contraction had me moaning. Being in the bed with monitors on was excruciating. I was squeezing my moms hand and DH was trying to put counter-pressure against my back but it wasn't working from that position. Finally the nurse helped me get my breathing under control and that got me through the hardest part. As I breathed "Hee-hee-hooo" over and over during contractions I tried to just imagine my little baby boy. I felt like I was only getting a few breaths between contractions.

Around 4:30 they checked me and found that I had just a little lip left and asked me to push a little to see if we could get past it. It worked. I was finally complete and ready to go. They went to fetch my OB and suddenly I had a bunch of people run in an turn me on my left side and put an oxygen mask on me. The baby's heartrate wasn't looking good so they were trying to get it back up. Luckily that helped, but again the oxygen mask was suffocating. I just tried to continue my breathing while the OB was coming. I had my mom, sister, sister-in-law and DH with me. MIL didn't make it in time for the birth, but my dad ended up being in there when he was born too because he had come in to help give me a blessing.

Finally I really started pushing around 4:45pm. I was still on my side, holding my right leg up and pushing with all my might. After maybe 10 minutes they got the bed set up in the normal delivery position. I had wanted to try pushing while squatting, but by that point I didn't care, I just wanted him out and didn't have the energy to ask to try another way. My oxygen mask kept slipping down but they kept putting it back on, it was so annoying. Shortly after I started pushing in that position they started saying we needed to get him out quickly because his heartrate kept going down. I just made myself push harder. Pushing hurt but I just kept thinking to myself that I did not want another c-section so I kept going.

They asked me if I wanted to watch and I said yes, so they brought a mirror over. I took one look and thought "Oh crap! What was I thinking?!" and didn't look again. It made it suddenly very really that I was going to push this big baby out of such a small hole! So I closed my eyes and just pushed and pushed and pushed. The ring of fire was even worse than I'd thought it would be. The pain made me want to stop, but at the same time it made me want to push harder to get it over with. My OB told me that she could tell I was going to tear and gave me a shot of lidocaine before he came out.

5:15pm- Finally my baby's head came out. I was still in pain and wanted to keep pushing but was told to wait just a minute. His hand was up by his face and she needed to pull it out to un-stick his shoulders. Finally I was able to give another push and out came my little boy. I immediately ripped the oxygen mask off, thinking Thank God!
"Oh my gosh! I did it!" were the first words I said, and kept repeating over and over. Jacob was placed on my chest while they hurried and clamped his cord. He wasn't crying and was very gray. They wanted to rush him over to get some oxygen and almost didn't let DH cut the cord, but he was able to while I got to touch my child's slippery warm body for a few seconds. My next thought was surprise about his hair. Jason had been born with thick, dark hair and so I expected that again. But Jacob was almost bald and his hair was blond. I had only a few seconds to process things before he was whisked away to the warmer.
I suddenly remembered that nobody was taking pictures. As they took him away I yelled to DH, "Pictures! Get the camera!" After just half a minute I heard my little boy start crying. Dh was over there snapping pictures. Jacob sounded so angry. They weighed Jacob and told me he was 8lb 14oz and 20". I was shocked, I thought he looked smaller than Jason had been, but he was only an ounce lower. That made me feel good that even with another big baby I could do it. My OB was still busy with me, waiting for the placenta to come out. It came out after about 5 minutes, then she started stitching up my 2nd degree tear. I needed another shot of lidocaine to numb the pain. She was still busy with the repair when they finally brought my baby over, 10 minutes after he was born.
I held him and admired him for a little while, then let him be passed around to family members while I finished getting stitched and cleaned up. They took turns holding him for about 10 minutes. Then I got him back and was able to try breastfeeding 35 minutes after he was born. (The only way I have any idea about this timeline is from the time stamp on our pictures, hurray for digital cameras!)
He was not the immediate pro at nursing like Jason had been. It took a few minutes to get him to latch on the first time and he didn't nurse for long. At 6:20pm they told me it was time to take him to the nursery to get cleaned up and I was going to be moved to my postpartum room. In my room I ate dinner and talked with family that came in and out. I was exhausted but my mind was still pumping adrenaline. I was so happy that I had been able to have a VBAC.
Around 8pm Jacob was brought back to me. He was passed around more and we nursed a bit until family left and we settled down for the night. That first night Jacob slept so well, though I slept horribly because I kept waking up to check on him.

The recovery from this birth was very different from my c-section, in more ways than one.

Emotional Recovery from C/S #1

The first few months with my new baby I never questioned the need for the c-section. I had trusted my OB to make the decision and I was just happy to have my darling little boy. He was an easy-going baby, napped a lot and hardly cried. That made it easy for me to just go with what happened. I was sad I had to have a c-section but I didn't question it and already knew I would try a vaginal birth the next time.

A mother on a messageboard I visited had her son shortly after mine and it was her story that got me to look into the realities of birth. She had a c-section for her first daughter but had a VBAC with all the rest. She had even given birth at home. In the water. Unassisted. Of course I thought she must be some crazy hippy or something, but she helped me see that maybe the "typical" hospital birth with interventions and fancy equipment wasn't all it's cracked up to be.

As I researched more about birth the what-ifs started to enter my mind. What if I had waited longer to go to the hospital? What if I hadn't gotten the epidural? What if I had walked around more to help get the baby into position? What if I had tried pushing in different positions instead of the one position that is actually one of the worst because it doesn't allow the pelvis to move open more? What if I had pushed longer? (They'd made it seem like 2hrs was way too long, but I researched and saw that 2-3hrs is actually normal for a first time mom.) And I knew that there was no way to know if my c-section had truly been necessary because we had not tried everything before going with it. My baby's heart rate was still ok and even though I was tired I could have pushed longer.

As I realized that there was so much more that could have been done I got angry. First I was angry at my OB for not suggesting anything other than the hospital norm. I was angry that she hadn't told me so many things. But then I realized she was just doing what she was taught and what she knew. I stopped being so angry at her and was angry with myself. How could I have been so ignorant about such an important thing as birth?! Why didn't I do all this research before? And I was angry at this country that has bring about this kind of situation for so many women. Nobody tells you to do your own research or look at alternative options. We are always told that the doctor knows best and we just follow blindly.

I also learned that having a VBAC is not as easy as you would think. Many doctors and hospital won't assist in them anymore. They say it is because of the risk of uterine rupture, which is a real risk but less than 1% and only a fraction of those are major problems, but really they are worried about themselves and getting sued. As one doctor has said "You don't get sued for doing a c-section, you get sued for not doing a c-section." meaning that they only get in trouble if they don't do a life-saving c-section in time, but not if they do a completely unnecessary one and the mom and baby don't die.

I decided that the next time I got pregnant I would have a homebirth, alone. I didn't want any chance that "they" would screw me over again. When Jason was almost 7 months old I got pregnant. It was not planned but I was excited, and I was eager to prove that my body worked just fine. Unfortunately I miscarried a few weeks later and that tempered my anger a bit. I realized that a c-section was preferable to losing a child. Of course I didn't want another c-section so I continued to research and do what I could to prepare myself for a VBAC the next time I got pregnant.

I would read birth stories that had ended in unplanned c-sections and go over in my mind what they maybe could have done differently. I read birth stories of beautiful natural births in hospitals, homes, and birth stories, and tell myself that I could do it. I would get angry all over again when I heard women say that they had no choice, or they had to do what their doctor said, or just follow along without bothering to do their own research. I had been just like them and did not want them to end up in my situation but there wasn't anything I could do to change it. Anytime they were told they had other options they would get defensive and angry, even while they lamented their situation. It was infuriating to see, so I just sat back and watched as my scenario replayed over and over in many of the women on my messageboards.

When Jason was almost a year old, I got pregnant again. I was so happy, although nervous about the possibility of another miscarriage. I switched to a midwife who worked in a group practice with other midwives and OBs. I had read that things would be so much better with a midwife, but honestly that group seemed no different than the OB I had seen before. The midwife I saw was more like what I have heard termed a MED-wife, pretty much the same as seeing an OB. Plus, because I was planning a VBAC she wouldn't even be able to oversee me, I would have to see the OBs in the group too. After just a few visits I realized I just was not comfortable with them and I switched back to my old OB.

I was thrilled when my OB was supportive of my choice to VBAC and have an un-medicated birth. I had been afraid that it would be a battle, but it was not. She told me that with the reason for my c-section (CPD and suspected macrosomia, which I know is a bunch of crap, really his head was just asynclitic) that I had maybe a 20% chance of success, but that she would do all she could to help me.

Obviously by this point I had decided to go ahead and give birth in the hospital again. If I had a planned a homebirth I knew I would get stressed out from my family being unsupportive, plus I decided that for my first VBAC I would be in the hospital "just in case" and the next time I could try an out-of-hospital birth.

Throughout that pregnancy I repeated positive affirmations to myself about how I am strong, my body knows what to do, my uterus is healed and strong, etc. That really helped me. I also stopped feeling anger towards my OB and took more responsibility for my own actions and preparedness.

The birth of my second son was what healed me the most.

Physical Recovery from C/S #1

I did not get much rest during my hospital stay. I found it very annoying that nurses come in every hour or two to disturb a new mom who is trying to sleep. After the first night I had them take Jason to the nursery the next two nights and just bring him to me when he was hungry. During the day DH had school that he couldn't miss and when he was at the hospital he spent most of the time studying because it was midterm week. Poor guy was exhausted too. We got visits from family a few times, but mostly I just spent time holding my little boy and watching TV.

They had me get out of bed the day after I had him and I almost fainted. I was so weak and I couldn't stand up straight. The nurses helped me shuffle to the bathroom dragging my IV where they removed my catheter and cleaned things up. Later that day I got to have my IV removed. I got up occasionally to walk around, but mostly I was exhausted and stayed in bed.

Thursday, Sept. 30 I got to go home. My mom came up again to spend that first day home with me to help out. It took us forever to get checked out and then they didn't even offer me a wheelchair out like usual, so I shuffled out of the hospital and got into the uncomfortable car seat next to my baby. It hurt to be in the car, every bump and turn made my incision hurt. When we got home though I got to relax a bit. I mostly sat around on the couch while my mom refilled my water and had me stick my feet in ice water to reduce the swelling. My feet had ballooned from all the IV fluids, I couldn't wear anything but slippers. My milk had also come in after the first day so I was engorged and my mom went out to get me a pump to help. I was so tired and so I didn't do much besides feed the baby.

I continued taking pain meds for the first few days back, then stopped by about a week postpartum. I've always hated having to take meds so I don't unless I absolutely have to. I sort of wish I had taken them longer because I remember that it hurt to do anything. Getting up, laying down, rolling over, getting out of bed, laughing, coughing, sneezing. Anytime I moved it felt like my stomach would rip open. I was still walking hunched over for about a week. My first postpartum bowel movement the day I got home was awful. I cried. Nobody had told me how important a stool softener would be. I have a memory of watching a movie at my brothers apartment and something was funny and I was holding a pillow to my scar and telling them to stop because laughing hurt. I did go on walks a few times a week, but they were short and wore me out.

I cried when I had to wake up and feed Jason at night because it hurt to roll over and get out of bed and I was just so tired. I remember a day when DH took the baby and told me to go nap and as I walked back to our room I just started bawling, not from the pain so much as from exhaustion and hormones. One night when he was about 2 weeks old I even fell asleep while nursing him and woke up hours later in a panic. He had ended up under the covers near my legs at the edge of the bed. I knew I needed to somehow get more sleep. At that time I learned to nurse laying down and moved him in to bed with us. We both slept much better and things started improving.

After those first two rough weeks, every day was a little better. I still couldn't move too quickly, or cough too hard, or do anything strenuous, but at least I felt halfway human again. By the time Jason was a month old I was almost back to normal. We were even up to resuming physical relations at that point. When he was a month old we went to WalMart for family pictures and there was another family there with a brand new baby. I noticed the mother walking in the same shuffling, hunched-over, exhausted way I had and knew that she must have been recovering from a c-section too. I wanted to go over and reassure her that it does get better.

I never had any problems with my incision. No infections or re-openings. All together my physical recovery was considered good, or as good as any recovery from major surgery is. But just because I had a "good" recovery it didn't mean I ever wanted to do it again.

The Start- The birth of my first son

Before the birth of my first son I believed that birth was easy. You go to the hospital, get your epidural, and in a few hours pop out a baby. Of course I had heard the horror stories of long, hard labors and emergency c-sections, but that wouldn't happen to me. I even knew that statistics at the time showed around 25% cesarean rate in our country, but I knew everything would work out perfectly for me. I was naive.
I read the typical "What to Expect" book, took the hospital birthing class and tour, and obediently just went along with everything I was told. Because of that I ended up with what has become a "typical" hospital birth.
Monday, September 27, 2004-
I went into labor on my own a day before my due date, around midnight. I was so excited. I couldn't sleep so I stayed up typing updates to messageboard friends, cleaning and doing laundry, and stopping every 7 or so minutes for contractions. Early labor was easy and I handled it by myself during the night pretty well.
When my husband woke up in the morning I told him he'd probably be calling in to work that day, but sent him off to school as it was midterms week. We called our families and my mom said she was on her way. My sister-in-law came over to keep me company while we waited for DH to get home and my mom to get there. We chatted while I folded laundry and kept busy, needing to stop and breathe through contractions. I felt the contractions all in my back, but was able to still handle them alone.
Around noon when my mom and DH were there we decided to head in to the hospital, about 5 minutes away. I finished getting everything into my hospital bag and making sure everything was ready for baby. We got to the hospital around 1pm and settled into a room. At 2pm I was checked and told I was 5cm. They asked if I wanted to go ahead and get my epidural and I said sure. I got the epidural around 3pm. I remember how good it felt to not be in pain anymore. At 4pm I was 8cm. At one point my epidural stopped working because the machine had stopped dispensing it, but they quickly got it fixed.
At 7:30 I was complete and started pushing. I wasn't sure if I was pushing well because I couldn't feel much, but I remember being so afraid that I might poop on the table so I was kind of holding back. By 9pm there hadn't been any progress. My OB told me we could give it another half hour and then discuss our options. I pushed with all my might but still had no progress. When the OB came back at 9:30pm to discuss things she told me that they couldn't tell what position his head was in so it would be dangerous to try using forceps or vacuum, and she recommended we go back for a c-section. I was so sad, but tired after 2hrs of pushing.
I remember looking to my mom (who has had a c-section) and she nodded and told me I should and it would be okay. Things quickly changed as the anesthesiologist came in to up my epidural and a nurse shaved my lower belly. DH was given scrubs to put on and I laughed at how he looked. My family (Mom, MIL, SIL and sister) were sent out to the waiting room with rest of the family.
I started to cry as they wheeled me back to the OR. I was scared and sad, but I made myself stop because I just wanted to focus on getting to see my baby soon. As they prepped me in the OR I got panicked because DH was not in there yet and I was afraid they'd start without him. I had an oxygen mask on and felt like I was suffocating, I hated that dang thing and had a hard time breathing with it on (kind of defeats the purpose of having it right?) but kept it on like a good girl.
Finally they let DH in and began cutting. I was surprised that DH watched the whole thing, because he'd joked for months about fainting while I was in labor. I was actually jealous that he got to watch. I didn't even think to ask them to lower the screen so I could see them pull him out and things had changed so quickly that we'd left the camera in the labor room.
10:04pm-
After some tugging and pulling I finally heard someone say, "Wow, big head!" and "Lots of hair!". Suddenly I heard my little boy screaming and nothing else mattered. Tears poured down my face as I heard them whisk him to the warmer to clean him up. DH went over to watch while I cried happily and waited to see my son. The only other thing on my mind was how annoyed I was getting that my tears were getting in my ears and I couldn't wipe them because my arms were strapped down.
After what seemed like forever, but was probably only 5 minutes, Hubby brought Jason over for me to see. My first thought was Oh good, he's cute! It was shallow but I'd worried about having an ugly baby. He was adorable all wrapped up with his little round face poking out. DH pulled off the baby hat and I was amazed at the thick black hair my little boy had. He was still crying so I started saying, "Shhh, it's ok. It's ok." To my amazement he stopped crying at the sound of my voice. The oxygen mask was (finally!) taken off so I could give him a kiss and an arm was unstrapped so I could reach up and touch his face.
DH went with them as the took my little boy to the nursery to bathe and weigh. I hated having them away from me as I lay in that cold bright room getting stitched up. I was wheeled to a recovery room where I was left alone. Occasionally a nurse would come check on my vitals and make sure I had warm blankets. At one point another surgery patient was brought in to recover and wake up from general and at least I wasn't alone anymore. Finally around 11pm my OB came in to see me. She said everything went great and my baby was nice and healthy. She called over to the nursery to get his stats for me- 8lb 15oz and 20" long. What a healthy big boy!
I was then wheeled back to a little postpartum room (seriously they were tiny) and waited anxiously to see my baby. My mom came in and waited with me, telling me how they had all seen my little boy as he was taken to the nursery and how proud DH was. I was so impatient, wondering what was taking them so long to bring my baby to me.
Finally, finally, around 12:15am DH came in with Jason. He was handed to me and I just stared at his perfect little face and talked to him. I was in love right away.
My mom helped me get started nursing, and I was relieved that he seemed to catch on quickly. Right from the start he nursed like a pro. As exhausted as I was from being up for 2 days and going through 22hrs of labor and pushing and major surgery, I did not sleep well. They had Jason room-in with me and he woke up a lot and because I still couldn't move I had to keep yelling for DH to wake up and bring him to me. And between Jason waking up I had nurses coming in every few hours to check on me and the baby. The first night was rough, but I was still so happy every time I had my little boy in my arms.
To come- the recovery, physical and emotional.