The blurry second half.

The second half of the birth story.

Where did I leave off? Recovery? Recovery, yes.

Here's what I remember:

A nurse wheeled us upstairs to recovery. Room 319 was our room for the next two days. These two days are mostly a big blur to me because I got something like an hour and a half of sleep during the first 24 hours and then maybe two or three during the second 24 hours. I suppose the fact that I'm writing this all out 3 weeks after the fact doesn't help, but I'll do my best.

Pain. Even though the hospital bed adjusted it's air to what I "needed", it was nearly impossible to find a comfortable position. Getting out of bed was a nightmare. Getting into bed was a nightmare. It became clear to me that Evan REALLY did a number on me on his way out. They gave me 800mg of ibuprofen every 6 or so hours, but I'm pretty sure it didn't help. Luckily, they have me a catheter, so I didn't have to get up to "recycle". Peeing without feeling the need is the most bizarre thing. Unfortunately, because I couldn't get out of bed, G had to do everything. I felt helpless, but he handled things like a champ. He changed all of Evan's diapers, mastered swaddling, helped me get the hang of breastfeeding, and fetched snacks when I needed them. Meanwhile, I stayed in bed, mastered breastfeeding, and paged the nurses during the few times exhaustion got to us and we needed help. I was topless for two days straight and didn't really care who saw me. Nurses, visitors, cleaning crew...it didn't matter.

At one point, one of the nurses told me that I needed to be unpacked. I didn't actually see what was used to pack me, but after it's removal, I'm thinking it was the world's gauze with the world's longest tampon string and HOLY JEBAS getting that string out FUCKING HURT. A little later, I was told that they had to remove the catheter and that it would hurt. It was NOTHING compared to the "tampon". Then, I was told that I had to pee twice or they'd have to put the catheter back in and was warned that I really didn't want that to have to happen because that hurts, as well. At some point, I finally got the nerve/energy/motivation to waddle to the tiny room of food for patients. I lived off of banana nut Otis Sputmeyer muffins and diet ginger ale the entire stay. Several sodas later, I'd peed enough to make the nurses happy.  Go me.

I wasn't the only one in pain. G had to deal with the room being as ridiculously cold and the bed being ridiculously uncomfortable. Evan had to deal with living on the outside AND having his heel pricked on a pretty regular basis: They tested him for diabetes and did some vaccinations.

We had about a bizillion different nurses help us during our stay. Some were good. Others were just plain awesome. If I hadn't been severely sleep deprived and on an adrenaline rush , I might be able to recall some of their names. Unfortunately, their faces and names have all blended together by this point.
A few people visited us while we were in room 319. Karina stopped by. Then, Tammy.

Nurse Tina visited during her shift. As did Nurse Holly.

September 1st was discharge day. The nurses removed Evan's baby lo-jack and sent us home sans safety net. G and I had decided that we wanted a few days at home...just the three of us...before we allowed visitors. I'm REALLY glad we did this. It might've annoyed some friends and family, but it was TOTALLY worth it.