We spent a good long time in recovery, which was surprisingly quiet. There was one other mom in the next bed, but they were speaking Italian, so we did feel like we were in our own little world. Nurse L. was great, but was run off her feet - since I have drug allergies, they couldn't use the normal painkiller they give to C-section patients, and the pharmacy was dragging its feet in getting my substitute. She kept checking on us, making sure that my spinal block hadn't worn off yet before the medication arrived. Finally, about an hour and a half later, it did, and we were ready to get on the road. I thanked her profusely as they were wheeling me out, and we were on our way.
We were interrupted for a second, though; security measures at the hospital require all newborns to be tagged with an ankle bracelet that locks down the doors when you get within 5 feet of them, until the baby is released from the main computer. Someone forgot to release N.'s ankle bracelet, and we held up traffic for about 7 minutes while they got someone to check him out of the computer. It was kind of funny, and it made me feel very secure (each baby and mom and dad are also given bracelets at the moment of birth with a unique code, which they check everytime they bring a baby to its parents) . So, after all that, off we went.
Like I had mentioned, before N.'s birth I'd never spent a night in the hospital. The most that had happened to me was a cortisol IV for a few hours to bring down an allergic reaction. So, Friday afternoon I found myself in a hospital bed with a newborn beside me in his bassinet, and I was unable to walk around, pick him up on my own, or even arrange my own pillows.
People who know me will vouch for the fact that I can be extremely, well, let's say relaxed. I don't want to say outright lazy, but I've been known to indulge when Hubby wants to do things for me. That being said, I don't like to be helpless. I enjoy knowing I could do things, but don't have to at the moment. So, being laid up in the hospital was really difficult for me.
The nurses and PCAs, though, were wonderful angels. After spending all of Friday in bed, they came in at about 5AM on Saturday morning and told me it was time for me to get up. They reassured me that, even though it was going to be hard, I could do it. I did believe them, somewhere deep down, but it was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do physically. Getting up to the washroom, which was 4 feet away from the bed, took me about 30 minutes. I made it eventually, and they were so encouraging the whole time. I also never once felt embarrassed, or undignified, even though I was pretty helpless.
After that, I collapsed back into bed. I've never been so grateful to lie down ;-)