My 48 Hour Postpartum Stay
It was almost midnight.
I remember the moment after I was wheeled up to my postpartum room and shimmied my body to my “new” postpartum bed while my nurse began setting up my room for me. She placed my bag of clothes on the back of my bathroom door. Sam kind of stayed over by the bed/couch for partners to stay out of the way and Killian in all of his new squishiness was bundled up in two blankets in his cot.
This photo was taken at 12:31 am the morning after I gave birth. Sitting on my postpartum bed and trying to process everything that just happened.
I sat on my bed until my nurse asked me to try and go to the bathroom. The effects of the epidural had pretty much worn off by that point but she still held my body up as we walked the 6 feet to the toilet. Sam held Killian and tried to look away (I mean dude you did just watch our child exit my body) but he’s super squeamish so whatever, I don’t blame him.
I remember my thighs still being swollen with retained fluid that it was difficult to walk and sit on the toilet. It was awkward, half sitting on the toilet half but also squatting because I could feel the pressure in my vaginal/vulva area being super fucking intense. My nurse got my cute postpartum mesh panties together with those awesome massive pads with witch hazel and then helped my feet through the holes. Holding onto her shoulder was the only way I could balance myself as she helped me pull them up over my swollen legs and ass. Oh man did I have an ass.
My nurse wiped up the bathroom, checked Killan’s vitals and placed him in the bassinet where he quickly fell asleep. She checked my vitals and then everything else she needed to on her checklist. She then told me to try and sleep and to set an alarm clock to feed Killian in a few hours.
And then she left.
I remember sitting there in the dark, and thinking “Well fuck. Now what.”
Like I literally just pushed a human being out of my body a few hours ago. DON’T LEAVE ME. WHAT DO I DO!? There’s no guidebook on this and as much as I love Sam, he’s about as clueless as I am at this moment. So I just laid down and went to sleep. I mean that’s what she told me to do.
The entire stay in my postpartum room was nothing but a blur of sweat, blood, breastfeeding struggles, SNS system with formula, a choking situation with Killian that scared the shit out of me, and a bombardment of nurses, doctors, social workers, birth certificate workers, and meal deliveries at some point EVERY HOUR.
We were woken up every hour throughout the 48 hours that we were there. I was woken up every time they opened the door, even if it was to just empty the trash. I don’t really have fond memories of our first 48 hours together as a family because of the severe sleep depravation and confusion. It was a difficult and physically painful time, however I will say that I was so excited I could eat food again (thank you Hyperemesis).
The hospital required us to take a baby care basics class before we were able to be released and I remember waddling to that class, my nether regions being SO sore. I couldn’t sit because of the amount of pain I was in, I couldn’t stand because of the amount of pain I was in, I couldn’t focus because of the pain, and I couldn’t hold Killian because of the pain. I was sweating and I could tell that my anxiety was getting worse but we got through the class.
We then had the only two visitors I allowed at the hospital; my mother in law and my sister. I didn’t want anyone there because I didn’t want to entertain people. I didn’t want to host. I had just given birth. And I mean, I had enough people going in and out of my room at all hours of the day anyways, I didn’t need anymore.
the release
There were a whole bunch of hoops we had to jump through before being released. We also had to pack up our luggage and I mean luggage. I brought a small suitcase as well as a diaper bag, and Sam had a backpack I believe. We brought way too much shit with us. I don’t think I ever changed during my hospital stay once I put my own clothes on. No shame and no fucks were given.
We left the hospital about 3 pm (it could’ve been a tad bit later, but I’m not 100% sure) so it was in the middle of rush hour traffic.
That drive home was seriously the MOST nerve wracking drive I’ve EVER had in my life. I was literally so scared to drive the 45 minutes home (well Sam was driving, I was in the back seat) but you get the point.
After my time so far as a birth worker, the hospital system surrounding birth just astounds me. You show up, you have a baby, they keep you for two days typically, then they say “have a nice life” and make you leave with this tiny new human being that you’re responsible for now. There’s no following up. No community. Everything is so impersonal and cut and dry.
building community
Looking back I felt so abandoned.
And it’s that feeling, Killian’s birth, and my postpartum journey that led me to birth work. To make sure my clients have that support, are given the resources they need to succeed and to feel loved. And if I’m not able to do it, to make sure I find someone who is able to.
Birth is community. Birth is transformative. It is a place people go that’s indescribable. Like the edge of the universe, touching the stars and feeling their cosmic powers. And then coming back into their bodies bringing a new soul with them.
After experiencing that, of only being checked on for 2 days and then getting “kicked out,” I don’t feel that’s what should be happening. That shit needs to change.