Tuesday, November 18, 2003
6 days old today. and he already has a few tiny spots and a sucking blister. never be so perfect again. sigh.
some notes from the days in hospital while I have a second:
holding him in his wrap, feeling the kicks and knowing them from when he was inside me.
feeling physically ill while they milked blood from his heel for the genetic screening tests.
to me, he didn't look like a day-old baby. he was mine. I knew him, entirely, on sight.
seeing him lifted over the divider to me, lying back like some offering on an altar - the salty, bloody taste in my mouth, the red sheen on his body, a quality of flesh I've never experienced before.
wasn't until I heard the sound of his cry (as soon as he was born - no vacuuming, thank God) that I realised I'd not embraced his reality yet.
and last night: 25 minutes on the left breast and then while dh was hassling me about some dumb household detail, I let A. throw up! I actually cried over it; the right breast is cracked and very sore, but A. needed a huge feed, of course. not the greatest night's sleep - not with that and the 3am crisis over all the little things that were not-perfect about the hospital/early labour experience, and whether those led to my supposed "failure to progress". very short fuse when you're sleeping this little. but not with A. never with A.
some notes from the days in hospital while I have a second:
holding him in his wrap, feeling the kicks and knowing them from when he was inside me.
feeling physically ill while they milked blood from his heel for the genetic screening tests.
to me, he didn't look like a day-old baby. he was mine. I knew him, entirely, on sight.
seeing him lifted over the divider to me, lying back like some offering on an altar - the salty, bloody taste in my mouth, the red sheen on his body, a quality of flesh I've never experienced before.
wasn't until I heard the sound of his cry (as soon as he was born - no vacuuming, thank God) that I realised I'd not embraced his reality yet.
and last night: 25 minutes on the left breast and then while dh was hassling me about some dumb household detail, I let A. throw up! I actually cried over it; the right breast is cracked and very sore, but A. needed a huge feed, of course. not the greatest night's sleep - not with that and the 3am crisis over all the little things that were not-perfect about the hospital/early labour experience, and whether those led to my supposed "failure to progress". very short fuse when you're sleeping this little. but not with A. never with A.
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