Upon Returning home we crashed into bed and slept, figuring S would wake up screaming when she was hungry. She didn’t–we slept about 5+ hours, when we were told to wake her up every 2 for feedings. So the first day was hard I felt guilty, but soon got over it. The routine started.
We had to set alarms to wake ourselves up, then sometimes we turned it off and fell back to sleep by accident. Other times I just didn’t hear the alarm. C got more sleep than I yet was still unable to cope with the sleep deprivation. I had other problems, namely seven layers of skin peeled off my nipples ay once by the “piranha”. I was quickly banned from saying this. I was paranoid that I was starting to associate S with pain and unpleasentness.
There was much crying on my part about how I couldn’t take it anymore please go get some formula and/ or a pump. C quickly ran out to get the pump had more fun than a man should have playing with and figuring out how all the parts fit together. I was going to be milked by machine soon, very soon if he had his way. Just having the pump available helped me feel better, but the real deal hadn’t come in yet. C’s mom was sure my milk would come in soon because I felt so shitty.
I talked to the cuz’ and she said “I know you don’t want to hear this…….(insert breastfeeding pep talk here)”, which helped me put things into perspective. She listened intently to me whining about how I would have gotten the drugs in labor if I would have known how badly the nipple “exfoliation”, tearing & stitches down below would hurt. Between feeding and sleeping da babe and myself, I soaked in a hot bath. These things kept me sane.
Next: Angels of Mercy