The hospital can be a funny place. You know, like on Scrubs. In between snuggling Eden and learning to breastfeed, I took the time to find the humor in a number of situations.
So, they gave me a catheter. The doctor explained why they were doing it (they had a good reason), apparently under the impression that I would mind. I guess the fact that I’d been a non-standard patient thus far (you know, the hippity-dippity natural kind that refuses everything) convinced him that I’d fight this, too. However, he hadn’t spent the last 2 months peeing 5+ times a night. I looked at the nurse and said, “You mean I don’t have to pee?” She said, “You’re peeing right now!”
Did you read the birth post? If so, you know that I had been in significant pain during labor. (Obvious statement of the year?) After Eden was born and we were transferred to our actual room, every time a nurse came in the room – which was every few hours – they would ask me about my pain level. “So, how’s your pain from a 1 to a 10?” I would typically respond, “Oh about a 2.” Then comes the most baffling response I can imagine: “Would you like me to get you something for that?” Umm… what? I just said it was a 2. But sure, pass the vicodin… it’s just too much.
When I originally told people about my plans to go to the birthing center, one of the questions I was asked was, “How long do they keep you there?” When I disclosed that it was typically about 6-8 hours, many people were concerned. I think the thought is that the hospital is this really restful place where you can sleep away the trauma of labor and delivery.
In reality, however, someone is coming in to “check” you every hour and a half to two hours. Including at night. I had a nurse. The baby had a nurse. Then there were the tests performed by various departments and entities within the hospital. Usually, each person only came once or twice at night. Unfortunately, there were 2 or 3 of these people coming “only” once or twice a night.
To be sure, I was grateful to have food prepared for me and people cleaning up after me. But the first day we went home, I took my first uninterrupted nap and it was magical.
The last day we were there, we had an Asian nurse named Sue. She was a trip. She was in charge of giving me my discharge info and instructions, and when describing something I shouldn’t be doing she would say: “For you, this is no.”
Suppositories: “For you, this is no.” (Like I would even consider it… gross.)
Abdominal exercises: “For you, this is no.”
Household chores: “For you, this is no.”
Also, the day I was discharged, I was talking to Jason about my recovery and feeling sad that it might be more than I expected. Naturally, I started crying. Sue happens to walk in at that point and talks to me for the 5th time about “the Baby Blue.” She told me that my recovery would not be the hardest part – just wait until breastfeeding and sore nipples! I am aghast… “Really, Sue? This is supposed to help me hold off the baby blue?”
Yeah, thanks for that.