Ethan's Birth Story (Hospital Recovery)

For me, the recovery period wasn't too bad. I was on morphine for a good deal of two days or so.

My sister was there within a day or two, and on that first weekend, my good friend Colleen came to visit.

Once the feeling was back (mostly) in my legs, but I was still on the morphine drip, the nurse helped me into a wheelchair.
The nurse wheeled me so quickly to the NICU I could actually feel a breeze on my face. Jennifer nearly tripped on the IV pole, and Ronnie had to run to keep up. Crazy!
(Photo: Ronnie and Ethan)

Once at the NICU, I was able to stand, then sit in a lounge chair near Ethan.

The following day, while Jennifer was still there, the Lactation Consultants came to visit me.

"Are you planning to breastfeed?" they asked, almost fearful of my answer.

"Yes, I am."

"Whew! Good! We don't have to give our schpeel about how good breastfeeding is for premmies. In fact, if you had decided not to, the Neonatal Physicians would have come to encourage you to breastfeed."

Then came our their big gun. The Hospital Grade Medela Breast Pump. It was kind of scary to look at! And the way it was assembled was even more dramatic and scary.

And then it happened.

In front of all those assembled before me. (Ronnie, Jennifer, and two lactation nurses.)

They hooked me up to that machine.

They all stared at me. Smiling.

I stared back. Not smiling.

"What's wrong?" someone asked.

I just glared at her, as if to say, "If everyone were staring at your breasts being pumped, would you be smiling?"

I can't believe I continued to pump after that, but I did. For two long months.

"Like honey!" said the lactation nurse.

"Did you hear that? Like honey!" Jennifer smiled.

And, they were right. Colostrum looks a lot like honey.
I was told then, that the milk of premmie moms is so thick with nutrients, it is as if the mom's body knows that the baby was born too soon and begins to increase the quality of the milk.
Amazing!
That weekend, Colleen came to visit. She would make we laugh so hard, and it hurt so bad, I had to resort to laughing with my throat and not my belly. Believe me, it's harder than it sounds. (Photo: Me and Colleen)







That Saturday, five days later, I was released. We got a room at the Ronald McDonald House. It would be our home-away-from-home for two months.