The first week after Baby Bear was born, I honestly feel like I was living two different lives. One minute I was high on love, excited about life and my baby. The next I was terrified and sobbing wondering what I was going to do with this little human.
I would sit in the rocking chair with her, just staring at her little face and wondering how in the hell love & nature had combined all together in my belly and out had come a little body with ten fingers, ten toes, a nose...and a little soul. I was being faced with the miracle of life first hand.
I remember when my nephew was born. I went over a day or two after he came earth side. My best friend had just become a mother for the first time and I really had no idea at all what she was going through. All I could do was stare at this bundle of brand new baby. I remember saying “You made that.” And being in awe.
Not even that prepared me for the awe and shock of seeing my own child. The love I felt...was indescribable. I felt like I could take on the world. I also felt like my body could rip apart at any moment as my stomach was being held together by staples and tape. I was so exhausted I was able to fall asleep sitting up, but I also felt like I could run a marathon. Somehow, I found this remarkable ability to run on very, very little sleep. It was the most insane contrast of my entire life.
The hospital stay was nothing short of hell. I have PTSD when it comes to doctors, hospitals and the like. So I was already on edge having to be there and the following experience did nothing to help my fears. Post c-section it was required of me that I stayed at least two nights. By the third morning I was metaphorically clawing at the door. It didn’t help that at the 24 hour mark, everything imploded.
I remember waking up the morning after my daughter was born and feeling all the good things. I’d had maybe one hour of sleep. I had a catheter as a person does following major surgery. It was uncomfortable...to say the least. Having it taken out was no fun. But I was still quite happy. Even with my daughter being jaundice, I wasn’t too worried. I went from being the woman that wanted no visitors at the hospital to suddenly inviting everyone to come see our new baby. But the bliss came to a screeching halt.
I had no idea that my daughter would be put through a series of tests at the 24 hour mark. No one warned us. Not friends and family. Not the nurses. No one. We were just lying in bed, learning to breast feed and all of a sudden a woman walked in with a machine and said that she was going to test my daughters hearing. My heart instantly leapt into my throat. My baby was perfect! Didn’t they know that? Couldn’t they see just how perfect she was?
The test took at least thirty minutes because the lady couldn’t get a proper reading. Baby Bear failed the hearing test; probably because she still had fluid in her ears from birth. But either way, she failed. The woman broke the news, that my daughter was potentially deaf in one ear and that we could book another test in three months. Then she left. I broke down. My husband broke down. We called our doula hysterical. She managed to calm us both, just in time for the next experience.
The next person that entered was rude immediately. There was a language barrier, but we managed to understand enough to realize that she was there to take our daughters blood. Once again, my daughter was nursing and hospital rules stated that we were not to be disturbed if we were nursing. Especially since we were trying to get rid of the jaundice. At the very least, the tests can be done while baby was on me. But I didn’t know this until later. I was under the impression I was just supposed to listen to what the doctors or nurses that entered the room had to say.
This lady took my daughter from me in the middle of a feed, causing her to scream and cry and placed her in the plastic bassinet. She tilted the bassinet on an angle and then yelled at my husband to come and hold my daughter down as she was sliding to the bottom and kicking and screaming. Because you know...gravity.
I was in so much pain from the c-section and disoriented from no sleep that I wasn’t thinking clearly. I should have called for a nurse. But I didn’t know that our rights were being violated. I didn’t know that this wasn’t being done right. I honestly think that I was in shock. Until the woman pricked my daughters heel for a third time and commented “she’s not a very good bleeder.” And then moved on to the next heel. I was out of bed then. I had to push my husband out of the way. He looked as though he was going to punch this woman. I knew I sure wanted to.
So I pushed him out of the way, made him sit on the bed and held my daughter in place, praying that the moment would end. The woman roughly squeezed my daughters heel until she managed to get a few drops of blood out. Then she sighed, clearly frustrated with us and stormed out of the room without another word.
Looking back, I’m disgusted with myself. Disgusted I did nothing to protect my daughter. Disgusted that we were not warned about this. Ten minutes later, a nurse came in to check on us. She found us all huddled together sobbing uncontrollably. She asked what happened and we told her as best we could.
“They did what?!” She shouted. “I’ll handle this.” Then she was gone. And she didn’t return for a long time. When she did finally come back she assured us that the lady who performed the test had been filling in for the actual person and that it has been ‘taken care of’. I wasn’t sure what that meant, and I didn’t ask. I just wanted to go home. I wanted my daughter as far away from that hospital as I could get.
I know now, that is where my Mama Bear persona was solidified. (It was also probably the beginning of my postpartum anxiety. More on that next week.) I would be damned if I allowed anyone to hurt my daughter again. People would be lucky if I ever even let her out of my arms.
Very quickly we became the talk of the ward because of what happened. The nurses were extra gentle with us. Extra accommodating. Either way, the third morning I got up, showered as best I could, did my makeup and got dressed in my going home outfit. Our bags were packed and ready to go. I was walking out of that hospital that day. And I was ready to dare anyone to try and stop me.
Baby Bear’s jaundice levels were still a little high; the doctor mentioned keeping her for observation and letting me go home. No freaking way. Not after what had happened the day before. Another nurse that came in knew what had happened the day before and knew we were done with our hospital stay. After I promised her that I would nurse on demand to heal the jaundice, she signed the release papers. I never moved so fast despite my belly feeling like water sloshing around in a fish bowl. After a quick car seat check from the nurses, we were outta there.
I still think it’s so weird that you can go to a hospital, give birth to a new life and no one cares what you know about parenting or babies or what kind of lifestyle you have. All anyone cares about is whether you have a car seat.
Papa Bear was on high alert driving us home. He drove under the speed limit with his four way lights on the whole time. Every slight bump we went over hurt and I was so grateful to my friend who’d told me to hold a pillow against myself to put pressure on my scar area during the ride home. (Thank you Michelle.)
Being home was night and day. All three of us instantly relaxed. We tried to put baby in her bassinet but it wasn’t happening. The moment we would lay her down on her back she would scream bloody murder. I honestly think she remembered what had happened to her and she was terrified to be alone. Both Papa Bear and I were big believers in the importance of skin to skin contact and so our bedsharing journey officially began that first night.
The next few days were a whirlwind of visitors. Mostly just immediate family and friends that meant a lot to us. Originally I’d wanted no visitors for a few weeks, but I’m glad in a way that we got it all over and done with in one fell swoop. I was very lucky because our visitors all knew what was up for the most part. They brought food and did chores for us. I’m am forever grateful to those that supported us in the early weeks. It was very special seeing their love for our daughter.
Though there were unavoidable tough moments, I honestly loved the newborn stage. Or rather, I reminded myself that it was only a stage and that soon enough we would be on to a new one. I had decided very quickly after the birth experience that I was not going to be going through any of this again. Baby Bear would in fact be my only cub. Because of this, it really helped me enjoy all the moments so much more.
Every first was also a last, and knowing that truly made me appreciate the day to day. So many cuddles, so much love. It went by so quickly. Even though it did speed by, I am so relieved that we never have to experience it first hand again. All of that, was good enough once for me. I honestly couldn’t imagine doing it all again but with a toddler or young child. Any mama that can or has...you’re a freaking rockstar in my eyes. I’ll send wine.
Almost a year later now, I look back and so much of those first days and weeks are a blur.
A blur of diapers (for both of us), and cuddles and tears, and feeds and sore nipples and sleepless nights and good morning smiles. I know that a lot of people discredit the newborn phase as the hardest. Perhaps it wasn’t the hardest for me because I had such a strong support system. My village was big and strong. Of course the support doesn’t last forever, but it truly did help. Looking back the key to thriving (not just surviving) the newborn days is to accept help, and to ask for it if no one offers. Some of our strongest supporters were people I didn’t even know really cared that much. (And oddly enough those who thought would be there for us, suddenly became quiet.)
It isn’t just the baby that’s a newborn. It’s the mother. We both needed love and nurturing. Guidance and support. I was able to focus on my child and my recovery quite a lot. I reminded myself in the hard moments that it was just that- a moment. It would pass. It was nothing short of a rollercoaster. And this ride with Baby Bear is really just beginning.