I've shared what led up to his birth...let's see if I can squeeze out the rest of his first week before thinking of all of the other subjects I want to write about. This is the best part, so it shouldn't be too hard.
So, Jacob was born relatively healthy, although there was some aprehension caused by his small size to be a past-term baby. He was breathing when born, but did have some trouble clearing his lungs on his own, so the doctors had to do extensive suctioning and as a result, his APGAR scores weren't as high as I would have liked. Of course, I really didn't find any of this out until well afterwards, so I didn't have to be in worried-mom mode while I was stitched back together. Most of what I remember was hearing him cry in the next room and at first being happy to hear that sound, and then instantly having the maternal instinct to feel sad that he was crying for his mommy and that this was the first time he was ever separated from me.
What an amazing week in the hospital we had...it was like a little hotel vacation for us to bond as a family, with occasional help from his many grandparent's stopping by. There were moments when I couldn't wait to get him home and away from the intrusions by doctors, nurses, and bill collecters (seriously, they try to get you to pay while you're still laid up in the hospital...FYI, you can decline and ask them to send an invoice after they file your insurance). There were other moments where I couldn't imagine how we could do it without a full medical staff there when we needed them.
The hospital photographer was a disastrous experience, yet one that taught me about my own maternal instinct. Baby was gone the second morning for his circumcision and Hep B vaccine, and I was alone for the first time and blissfully taking a nap. We would be going home the next day and based on what everyone with kids had told me the previous 8 months, I would never sleep again. When Jacob came back, he was sleeping, so I was excited for the quiet, cool, dark room and just the two of us snoring away. Within 30 minutes, the photographer showed up. I told her that I really didn't think it was a good time and that I hadn't really prepared, and she brushed me off breezily, explaining that she wouldn't bother him too much.
Um, yeah, then she spent the next ten minutes trying to get him to wake up for the picture as I stood behind her explaining that I really didn't care if his eyes were closed, and that he needed his rest after his "surgery". I think she was disappointed, but I really didn't care how good her stupid picture was at that point. She was disturbing MY BABY. When she came back a while later, I just pretty much gave her the stank eye when she tried to coerce me into buying photos. I have to say, she was such a b*tch about it anyway...she came to show me the proofs and snottily said, "sorry he looks so unhappy." Um, yeah, he looks unhappy because you poked and prodded him for half an hour, lady. (I have to admit, he is the most beautiful unhappy newborn I've ever seen in those photo proofs. I'm glad I have them so I can tell this story for years to come.)
Wow. Big diversion. That's what happens when you have to work on a post a little at the time for three days. Anyway, my point is, despite my birth story lacking the surprise element, the excitement of "I think it's time", and was not what I planned, what is important and what matters is that I healed in miraculous time, and three days later went home with a beautiful, sweet, wonderful baby with a cute little cry and humongous hands and feet.
And I have never felt more blessed.
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