Warning: This blog is going to be completely random due to percocet and the quick blurbs of sleep I've been getting lately. I watched the Olympics last night! As I nursed my daughter (every hour at ten til the hour) I got to see all the coverage re-runs... it was inspiring. I want to be an Olympian when I grow up.
I just took my first shower since coming home on Friday, and it was glorious! Libby's taking a nap, Harrison's playing independently (!!!), and I'm actually on the internet while Matt watches Libby. I feel almost spoiled. :-)
I noticed that as my belly slowly disappears, so are my ankles...ah the joys of water redistribution after pregnancy. My belly is disappearing b/c my uterus is shrinking back to its normal size. Matt saw my uterus during my surgery by accident (which was pretty freaking hilarious). The sighting was prompted by the doctor (a man who saw at least ten uterui/uteruses (?) that day before mine) exclaiming "Wow! Look at that uterus!" Apparently, it's a fine looking organ.
"I could see four more coming in the future with that one!" he said.
I didn't have the heart to tell him that he would never see my uterus again since Libby will probably be our last.
The C-section wasn't nearly as traumatizing as Harrison's, mainly b/c I knew that it was going to happen. My friend Allen has this great story about how he was awake during his wisdom tooth extraction and how cool it was to hear and see everything that was going on without feeling anything. Despite the fact that a baby and not a tooth was being extracted from my body, the experience was on a slightly larger scale, but feeling my organs being shifted and hearing the doctors dialog as to everything that was going on, was indeed pretty cool.
The recovery however: not cool. In the hospital, the nurses and Matt (see the Super Hero blog) were somewhat amazed at how quickly I was progressing, and I was super proud. But here at home with the little to no sleep and a three year old who desperately wants my attention, the pains of recovery are worse and I had to take my first percocet last night. I feel somewhat defeated, but every time I look at Harrison and Libby it feels so incredibly worth it.
So I have six weeks of recovery. The first two weeks I'm not even allowed to walk up the stairs (unless absolutely necessary) or drive, or well, anything. My doctor described like this: "During your first two weeks you are a queen, the next two weeks you are a princess, and the last two weeks you'll start to behave like a commoner."
How do you behave like a queen with a three year old? Matt is doing the best he can to help, and he's an amazing dad. But, I see him burning out without getting enough sleep. Harrison wants the same amount of attention we're giving Libby, and we are still learning how to balance. His Aunt Reen (hooray for family) took him out yesterday and his cousin came over to play and see the baby, so that was good.
Okay. That's my update. I'm going to see if Libby's awake and ready for lunch before the spell ends and the quiet goes away. Much love to everyone who sent love and prayers our way after Libby's birth! Thank you!!!
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