Safely Home For A Few Days Now
Sep. 8th, 2010 01:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dr_pretentiousI'd gone long enough without posting, some folks were starting to worry. Everything's fine, I just don't have a dozen nurses at my beck and call anymore, and now that I'm home with both my kids, there are not so many spare moments.
Conrad is a jolly baby, as jolly as a baby can be during a developmental period when he sleeps 18 hours a day. We were so lucky with Gareth, who was only difficult about eating and easy about everything else, that we'd braced ourselves for karmic payback and the possibility of a really difficult temperament, or at least a repeat of my misadventures as Dr. Moo Cow. Nope. Straight-up harmonious kid. Whenever I see his little proto-smile, the word "jolly" pops into my head immediately, followed often by vague memories of a Dadaist poem I memorized when I was in my teens and terribly impressed by Dadaism, the one that begins jolifanto bambla o falli bambla. Maybe I'll have to rememorize it. Gareth certainly finds it amusing. For those who have asked: Conrad was born last Monday, at 7 pounds 13 ounces, 20 inches long. Before the tachypnea started up and tests detected the low blood sugar, his Apgar scores were auspiciously high, 8 and 9.
The hospital folk sent us on our way Friday morning, still fretful about my blood pressure but cheery about everything else, for both of us. So far, so good. Gareth is still delighted with his little brother, though he does ask to be picked up constantly. I think he was hoping I'd regain that superpower as soon as Little Brother was born. (Grumble, c-section, grumble grumble.) I'm feeling a little better every day. A lot better would be nicer. I look forward to not needing percocet this much, hopefully sometime soon. (Opiates, feh. I can't believe people take them recreationally. Self-medicating, okay, that I can believe, and a few times in my life I have experienced enough pain to make the idea of a transdermal morphine patch seem attractive, but for fun? Um, no.)
Weirdly, the change that took the biggest mental reframing was the moment when my mother had to go home to Maryland after helping out the whole time I was in the hospital. She and Dan had this almost-sustainable division of labor, where Mom was there for me first and for her grandkids second, and Dan was there for Gareth and Conrad first and me second. We were all cool with that, and we knew how to make it work. When Dan suddenly had to do all the stuff he'd been doing, plus all the stuff my mother had been doing, plus a bunch of the stuff the nurses and hospital staff had been doing, he had trouble getting his head in the game--which is understandable, because that game would kind of suck. Thank goodness for friends bearing casseroles. (And, for those local folks we know in real life who were about to ask, yes, we could definitely use more casseroles.)
Thank you, everybody, for the congratulations and well-wishes. The first few weeks after a birth, the world seems to shrink, first to a hospital room, and then to one's house. Very isolating. It's wonderful to feel connected to the larger world, and to be reminded that the larger world is full of excellent people.
Conrad is a jolly baby, as jolly as a baby can be during a developmental period when he sleeps 18 hours a day. We were so lucky with Gareth, who was only difficult about eating and easy about everything else, that we'd braced ourselves for karmic payback and the possibility of a really difficult temperament, or at least a repeat of my misadventures as Dr. Moo Cow. Nope. Straight-up harmonious kid. Whenever I see his little proto-smile, the word "jolly" pops into my head immediately, followed often by vague memories of a Dadaist poem I memorized when I was in my teens and terribly impressed by Dadaism, the one that begins jolifanto bambla o falli bambla. Maybe I'll have to rememorize it. Gareth certainly finds it amusing. For those who have asked: Conrad was born last Monday, at 7 pounds 13 ounces, 20 inches long. Before the tachypnea started up and tests detected the low blood sugar, his Apgar scores were auspiciously high, 8 and 9.
The hospital folk sent us on our way Friday morning, still fretful about my blood pressure but cheery about everything else, for both of us. So far, so good. Gareth is still delighted with his little brother, though he does ask to be picked up constantly. I think he was hoping I'd regain that superpower as soon as Little Brother was born. (Grumble, c-section, grumble grumble.) I'm feeling a little better every day. A lot better would be nicer. I look forward to not needing percocet this much, hopefully sometime soon. (Opiates, feh. I can't believe people take them recreationally. Self-medicating, okay, that I can believe, and a few times in my life I have experienced enough pain to make the idea of a transdermal morphine patch seem attractive, but for fun? Um, no.)
Weirdly, the change that took the biggest mental reframing was the moment when my mother had to go home to Maryland after helping out the whole time I was in the hospital. She and Dan had this almost-sustainable division of labor, where Mom was there for me first and for her grandkids second, and Dan was there for Gareth and Conrad first and me second. We were all cool with that, and we knew how to make it work. When Dan suddenly had to do all the stuff he'd been doing, plus all the stuff my mother had been doing, plus a bunch of the stuff the nurses and hospital staff had been doing, he had trouble getting his head in the game--which is understandable, because that game would kind of suck. Thank goodness for friends bearing casseroles. (And, for those local folks we know in real life who were about to ask, yes, we could definitely use more casseroles.)
Thank you, everybody, for the congratulations and well-wishes. The first few weeks after a birth, the world seems to shrink, first to a hospital room, and then to one's house. Very isolating. It's wonderful to feel connected to the larger world, and to be reminded that the larger world is full of excellent people.
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no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 05:45 am (UTC)I wish I had the recipe for the casserole in Closing Arguments; I might try and make it for you. I know how to make chicken matzo ball soup but what is pagan comfort food?
no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 06:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 06:33 am (UTC)I too have never understood the pain killers for "fun" thing. The only ones I can take and not run the risk of not breathing or puking my guts out the entire time I'm on them is Toradol and unbelievably Morphine of all things. So, I really can't see the fun factor.
And, yes, so much to do, so few to do it. Hope you get all the help you need.
Take care and kiss the family for me!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 11:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 11:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-08 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 02:04 am (UTC)I much agree about opiates. I was terribly disappointed in percocet (the sickle patients like it so much...I was expecting more.) For some bizarre reason, I was able to come off them altogether 2 days after my c-section. I think they cut just the right nerves or something. I wasn't being macho, it just didn't hurt.
All the best to you and your family, especially the new little Conrad. The world shrinks but it will expand again and become bigger than ever as you see it through the little ones' eyes as well as your own.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 11:13 pm (UTC)Hugs to Dan for his heroics of fatherhood!
fingers crossed that your better soon!