Day 8 of A 'lil HooHaa's 20 Days of Chill!
Today's prompt is
Linda had still not encountered any violin playing angels, not even the singing kind, instead she was struggling.
Although they gave her two units of blood infusions she felt weak and depleted. The nurses assured her she was healing nicely down there, but she was convinced she could never sit on a chair again.
Breastfeeding was definitely no walk in the park, in fact even with the help of icy and warm compresses, oily ointments, yucky teas and some monstrous pumping devices she barely produced half an oz. Not nearly enough to satisfy her son who was born weighing 9 pounds.
The (frequent) trips to the bathroom took what felt hours, and she still didn't feel strong enough to take a shower. God knew she needed one, though. Her hair had gotten wet in the birthing tub, but of course nobody cared to apply some detangler, let alone styling mousse.
Luckily, her baby boy was doing great. When he wasn't sleeping or drinking, he was looking at her with his beautiful dark blue eyes, and he seemed to understand.
"Hang in there, Mommy, we'll be OK."
Linda wasn't so sure about that. It had been 3 or 4 days, and she wasn't able to care for her son!
She couldn't feed him, she couldn't get up to change his diapers, she would probably have to spend the first year of his life here at this nice maternity ward where other people tended to her and her babies needs.
Busy doctors, caring nurses, pushy lactation consultants and the friendly food person visited every morning. Linda loved the food person. She didn't do anything else than going from room to room asking patients what they wanted for lunch and dinner. Usually there was a meat, a seasonal and a vegetarian option, and all of them were yummy.
"I need a food person once I'm back home" she said to herself. Then it hit her: Back home she was going to be the food person not only for her baby, but also for her husband and for herself. She was going to be the laundry person, the grocery person, and would probably have to take on many other roles.
She had read "what to expect when you're expecting", attended two birth preparation classes, but apart from the usual check-ups at her gynaecologist's and a lot of googling baby's developmental steps at 20, 30 and 40 weeks, her imagination had not taken her beyond giving birth.
In her job Linda was used to trouble shoot and find solutions for every situation. She was an organizational talent, and if necessary she would instinctively know what to do, she was sure about that.
It became more and more clear to her that never in her life had she been so wrong. Her thoughts were racing, and when she noticed her phone was vibrating because her husband was calling, she pressed the button to answer but couldn't say a thing because out of the blue she felt so overwhelmed she was crying.
"Honey what's wrong? Anything happened to the baby?"
It wasn't the first time she couldn't help herself but cry. She was aware of the hormones going wild after giving birth, and she heard about women suffering from postpartum depression, but of course you can't really know what it feels like until you're affected yourself.
Linda had wanted this for a long time, and she was so happy when she finally got pregnant! She was more than OK to be doing without sushi or wine for a while and reduced her caffeine intake drastically. She could not be sad now that the baby was here. There was no reason!!!
"Here's your rental" A breastfeeding cheerleader entered the room and put a huge bag on the floor next to her nightstand. "It's all in here for you to take home, I just need a signature here and here."
Linda couldn't remember having discussed the rent-a-pump, but she quickly signed there and there, and the woman left.
Staring at the bag full of pumps, hoses, contact nipple shields and storages bottles, she felt uneasy. So she had to pump for 20 minutes on each side, that made 40 minutes. Then she had to boil water for the supplementary formula and feed and change the baby, wash the pump and bottle, an hour at least till everything was done.
If she was lucky she would be able to catch an hour of sleep until the next feeding. (Who survives on sleeping for an hour at a time?) Baby boy was hungry every two hours, and she was advised against giving him more formula. This just didn't make sense. When was she supposed to take a shower, shop for groceries, make a meal?
So Linda hugged her baby boy and said to him "little guy, this pumping business is BS. You will need me to be at my best. We'll do formula all the way and save us a lot of time and trouble. You game?"
He didn't object, and it was settled. Take Charge Mom made her first appearance that day!
Coincidence has it that this coming Friday I'm participating in the monthly writing challenge "Use Your Words", and guess what, blues is one of the words I'm supposed to use. Be sure to check it out, it posts at 10am EST.
In the meantime head over to my partners incrime chill and see what they have come up with! See you tomorrow for some booze and bongos!
Today's prompt is
Blue
Linda had still not encountered any violin playing angels, not even the singing kind, instead she was struggling.
Although they gave her two units of blood infusions she felt weak and depleted. The nurses assured her she was healing nicely down there, but she was convinced she could never sit on a chair again.
Breastfeeding was definitely no walk in the park, in fact even with the help of icy and warm compresses, oily ointments, yucky teas and some monstrous pumping devices she barely produced half an oz. Not nearly enough to satisfy her son who was born weighing 9 pounds.
The (frequent) trips to the bathroom took what felt hours, and she still didn't feel strong enough to take a shower. God knew she needed one, though. Her hair had gotten wet in the birthing tub, but of course nobody cared to apply some detangler, let alone styling mousse.
Luckily, her baby boy was doing great. When he wasn't sleeping or drinking, he was looking at her with his beautiful dark blue eyes, and he seemed to understand.
"Hang in there, Mommy, we'll be OK."
Linda wasn't so sure about that. It had been 3 or 4 days, and she wasn't able to care for her son!
She couldn't feed him, she couldn't get up to change his diapers, she would probably have to spend the first year of his life here at this nice maternity ward where other people tended to her and her babies needs.
Busy doctors, caring nurses, pushy lactation consultants and the friendly food person visited every morning. Linda loved the food person. She didn't do anything else than going from room to room asking patients what they wanted for lunch and dinner. Usually there was a meat, a seasonal and a vegetarian option, and all of them were yummy.
"I need a food person once I'm back home" she said to herself. Then it hit her: Back home she was going to be the food person not only for her baby, but also for her husband and for herself. She was going to be the laundry person, the grocery person, and would probably have to take on many other roles.
She had read "what to expect when you're expecting", attended two birth preparation classes, but apart from the usual check-ups at her gynaecologist's and a lot of googling baby's developmental steps at 20, 30 and 40 weeks, her imagination had not taken her beyond giving birth.
In her job Linda was used to trouble shoot and find solutions for every situation. She was an organizational talent, and if necessary she would instinctively know what to do, she was sure about that.
It became more and more clear to her that never in her life had she been so wrong. Her thoughts were racing, and when she noticed her phone was vibrating because her husband was calling, she pressed the button to answer but couldn't say a thing because out of the blue she felt so overwhelmed she was crying.
"Honey what's wrong? Anything happened to the baby?"
It wasn't the first time she couldn't help herself but cry. She was aware of the hormones going wild after giving birth, and she heard about women suffering from postpartum depression, but of course you can't really know what it feels like until you're affected yourself.
Linda had wanted this for a long time, and she was so happy when she finally got pregnant! She was more than OK to be doing without sushi or wine for a while and reduced her caffeine intake drastically. She could not be sad now that the baby was here. There was no reason!!!
"Here's your rental" A breastfeeding cheerleader entered the room and put a huge bag on the floor next to her nightstand. "It's all in here for you to take home, I just need a signature here and here."
Linda couldn't remember having discussed the rent-a-pump, but she quickly signed there and there, and the woman left.
Staring at the bag full of pumps, hoses, contact nipple shields and storages bottles, she felt uneasy. So she had to pump for 20 minutes on each side, that made 40 minutes. Then she had to boil water for the supplementary formula and feed and change the baby, wash the pump and bottle, an hour at least till everything was done.
If she was lucky she would be able to catch an hour of sleep until the next feeding. (Who survives on sleeping for an hour at a time?) Baby boy was hungry every two hours, and she was advised against giving him more formula. This just didn't make sense. When was she supposed to take a shower, shop for groceries, make a meal?
So Linda hugged her baby boy and said to him "little guy, this pumping business is BS. You will need me to be at my best. We'll do formula all the way and save us a lot of time and trouble. You game?"
He didn't object, and it was settled. Take Charge Mom made her first appearance that day!
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| Photo Credit |
Coincidence has it that this coming Friday I'm participating in the monthly writing challenge "Use Your Words", and guess what, blues is one of the words I'm supposed to use. Be sure to check it out, it posts at 10am EST.
In the meantime head over to my partners in
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