I'm baaa-aaack! Yes, I sit here typing trussed up like a *Thanksgiving Turducken to say a huge thanks for all the well wishes that came our way this last week (*this literary metaphor brought to you courtesy of watching way too many Food Network Thanksgiving Specials--this kid must think Paula Deen is Grammy).
Hubs ain't half bad is he? Of course, he still overtly states that blogging is largely for geek-nutjobs (including me) but this is from the man who took me and and precious cargo home from the hospital sporting a Dad Gone Mad t-shirt, so I am not in the least offended.
Hands up who winced at the 10lbs 1oz news? I know *I* fricking did! I am just utterly relieved that they didn't let me go 2 weeks past my due date. That notion makes my eyes water.
So, how are we doing? Pretty F. Good Actually. Though I did not voice it before, I was actually harboring some serious anxiety over how we would cope with two kids--especially one who is an infant. As I've said before, our first son--though now a pure and golden delight--was quite, uh, spirited straight out of the womb. I don't think any of us slept for about 5 months, and waking hours were spent in fraught 'screaming management' mode. (and anyone reading this who is dealing with a colicky infant, Hubs and I are here to testify that it will end, and you will end up with the child of your dreams. Honest.)
This baby (and let me not curse myself here) does miraculous things like take long naps, sit and stare from his baby seat, and wake up only a few times a night. He even produces delicate burps on demand when we pat his back. It's early days for sure, but I've really enjoyed this last week in the baby vortex. Beats working for a living (ha! yes, because becoming a walking Milk Machine is not "work";-))
The C-Section. I have unattractively revelled in the flow of praise I have received about being so brave about that part of things. Let me tell you, courage had nothing to do with it. After about 9 pushes where he shifted not an inch and memories of 3 plus hours pushing last one out, I was all, like, "go ahead and cut me open lady!" I did encounter a few moments of sheer terror in the operating room, which was all so "E.R.-like," and well, clinical (I've never had surgery before). And also panicked when they kept pricking me and saying "can you feel this? this? this?"-- "YES! YES! YES!" But that only lasted about 10 minutes. And the alternative would have been pretty dangerous as it turns out, so... (can't think about that one).
Also, being someone who can compare the healing process of the two procedures--yes, C hurts like a mother the first few days, but compared to healing with the mother of all episiotimies, it ain't half bad. And (faint of heart skip forward here) at least the "wound area" is not in the vicinity of other functional areas. I could, for instance, go #2 without gripping the toilet bowl and fearing that I would be split once more in twain. Small blessings, but I'll take 'em thanks... And then, of course, there's the lovely lovely Vicodin. Adminttedly, some things are a bit of a bitch--stairs for instance. They do hurt a bit. I don't have wireless (remember) and so venturing downstairs to the basement to check email, and blog, etc., was a bit of a challenge. (yes, yes. Must get me some wireless. STAT.) But I am not one to look an excuse to sit on her arse and watch copious amounts of television in the mouth.
Anyway, I promise to be less remiss on the blogging front, and I am looking forward to catching up with everyone else. Thanks all again for the warmness--we really appreciate it:)