getting released for the second time, pink room shakes flasbacks and no driving under the influence

I’m finally getting released, making it a total of 5 weeks (39 days minus the day I was home) in the hospital. My feet are almost back to normal, I’m not as swollen anywhere and I no longer look 8 months pregnant nor 6…(more like 3 or four… well possibly 6 a very “small” six) thank you very much! My husband picks me up and we hug for a long time. It feels a little bit what I can imagine being released from prison might feel like, but yet again the nostalgia hits. It’s partly because of all the help and comfort (I mean they probably wouldn’t let me die) around here but also because I’m leaving my baby- again, like I’m leaving a part of myself. Maybe prison is horrible and not a good comparison, I really wouldn’t know, but hospitals are not the cheeriest places either especially not when you can’t go anywhere (barely get out of bed as when in bed rest) or when you are really sick (as when I came back). I do of course recognize that it’s worse (beyond compare) for the truly sick, I’m extremely blessed because I got better and I now get to go home to my family (and hopefully my daughter will follow shorty). I can’t imagine the alternative. This time around I don’t hug any nurses though (didn’t make any friends like the “last time”). I would probably hug the night nurses if they were here. A new nurse I haven’t met before (rarely happens) goes over the paperwork with me (it feels like déjà vu just with different medications). Again no driving for a week (a week? Not sure that is going to work…but with the dizziness and weakness I’m still experiencing maybe I have to lay off operating motor vehicles for at least a while).

As we say bye to our little princess in the NICU I feel silly for crying, I will be back in the morning after all. I promise the nurse taking care of my baby today that I will be back with more milk in the am and that I will remind my husband to join me for the mandatory CPR course at the hospital on Tuesday night. He stares at our baby girl in her clear, thick plastic bed, all bundled up (expertly swaddled in the hospital blue/pink foot print blanket) all the cords and the big black humming (beeping from time to time) monitor, mumbling that she looks so fragile. I smile watching them. A father with her little daughter. The nurse reminds us both that it will be at least five more days before we get to take baby home because of the Brady plus she needs to be eating better, learn to breathe and swallow, her jaundice has to go away (or at least have a lot lower levels) and she has to gain weight, so in summary probably a week or longer. I said it before and I’ll say it again “it is way better that she stays here where they really know how to take care of her and are experienced and equipped to do so then her coming home with us prematurely” (have enough of that… see what I did there…) I impulsively hug the nurse who laughs telling me she is on tomorrow night as well and the night after that so we’ll see each other! I leave her with a “take care of our baby” and grab my husband’s arm for support

. The next couple of days pass in a blur. It’s strange to be home again at first. I’m still not feeling a hundred percent and my medicine makes me drowsy. I’m back in the downstairs “pink” guest room and sleeping in that bed give me uncomfortable flashbacks like I’m fearing I will get sick and start shaking again. I set my alarm for every three hours around the clock to pump my milk. I finally have my mom to talk to and my little man to cuddle even if I worry about the baby constantly. When I’m in the NICU I worry about not being home and all the responsibility and stress I put on my mom and when I am home I feel guilty that I am not with my baby (thinking the nurses talk about me behind my back, saying I’m a terrible mother). Since I can’t drive myself yet (I realize of course you shouldn’t drive on these antibiotics and not to mention the Vicodin) and that I’m not completely healed from child birth, I have to enlist family members. First up is my dear mother in law who takes off work to take me in the morning and next is my wonderful sister in law. Its nice spending some time with her one on one, I feel like we are getting closer by just connecting during the car ride and the few hours in the NICU. Before she leaves and hubby joins me for the CPR class though, baby girl goes under 60 (as I’m holding her after her feed) on the monitor, alarm blaring, blinking the word desat in yellow… Oh no! What now…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About jennym

A doctor of psychology and a mother of three writing about the struggles and joys and the ups and downs of motherhood, marriage, pregnancies, deliveries and her absolute love for her children in a humoristic yet down to earth weekly blog!

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