(Warning: This memoir is not for the fainthearted. Don't say I didn't warn you.)
Really...I wasn't kidding around when I told people that he was going to have a scheduled induction if he wasn't ready to come out on his due date. The second time around, I learned that I don't have to listen to and follow everyone's advice if I don't want to. This time I preferred to listen to my own motherly instincts to care for my baby.
For some folks, a scheduled induction ignites concern, "Why don't you let the baby just come out when he wants to come out?" My response, "Heck nah! He's getting evicted." I had my health reasons for going the induction route rather than be smacked down with more complications--emergency C-section, mecronium ingestion, risky delivering larger baby vaginally and dislocating his shoulder, gestational diabetes. No. Thank. You.
Some folks even tried to encourage me to go "au naturel" since I've never had that experience with the firstborn. They gave me books and shared their heartwarming testimonies. Please spare me from organic propaganda. I've been practicing how to deal with labor contractions since age 11 with my terrible monthly menstrual cramps. Why would I ever want that pain to escalate into the likeness of another Fukushima Daiichi meltdown?
And since I'm on the topic of drugs, I asked the nurse during the first evening after I delivered Baby Nick if I could have a dose of Percocet. It just to take the edge off the pain "down in the area of womanhood". (Sidenote: By the 8th month of pregnancy that womanly area looks and feels swollen, but your husband and OB/Gyn are too afraid tell you that. The rules of female modesty instantly changes when everyone in the hospital must see and probe you down there.) After childbirth that entire area seems like it has taken on a world class beating from Manny Pacquiao. No smart person will dare tell me how awful and disgusting it really is down there because I might just start a massacre after all that I've been through.
You know what's ironic? Marketers make these femine pad commercials so sexy, so discreet and incredibly comfortable sounding. Immediately after birth, I had no choice but to wear hospital grade "feminine napkins". It really should be renamed "feminine matress pads" because they are enormous. I've forgotten what it was like to wear hospital grade Kotex. I had a tiny laceration somewhere in my uterus because of the speedy delivery, that caused me to bleed slightly more. Nurse Carmen came in and pushed on my abdomen as if she was kneading Cinnabon dough to check on the bleeding and blood clots. I feel nearly humiliated when she had to come every hour or so to change the pads for me, because my legs still felt like spaghetti noodles from the epidural. The only thing that spared me from total humiliation is the fact that all the nurses in that hospital floor are female, including the janitor! Nurse Carmen was so sweet. She was happy to help me out.
I just wanted Percocet so I can get some sleep and forget the humiliation, the pain, and that annoying matress pad wedged in between my legs. Taking one was good enough to help me feel rested. Ahhh...but that feeling wore off the next day.
Mistakenly, I asked a different nurse (who just happened to be a 50-plus-aged Filipina, who openly told me that she never married and never had any children of her own) if I can have Percocet. She gave me a long lecture in her broken, thick Pinoy accented English that basically concluded with, "We Filipinas don't use those addicting narcotics." Whatever Manang Nurse Lady! Well I am American-born-and-raised I gave just gave birth to my baby on United States soil less than 24 hours ago! Do I not have rights to ask for a narcotic? I'm a responsible user! You think I'd tell her off just like that, but I didn't. I kept being polite to her, even though I simmered in a stew of annoyance.
The nurse talked me out of Percocet. I got 600mg of Ibuprofen instead. Eh, I wasn't thrilled. I was irked not only by being denied Percocet, but her constant barging through the room loudly without knocking to check the baby and my vitals. The only reason why I warmed up to her at the very end was because she did the Filipino thing by hooking up my hospital goody bag with extra cartons of baby formula, diapers, gauze and a handful of vaseline before her shift ended. She was the Filipina Robin Hood to me after she brought in a storage room of hospital supplies.
As for breastfeeding the baby, I knew exactly what to bring to prepare myself for the job. I came prepared with a nursing cover and My Breast Friend nursing pillow. I experienced the trouble of having a baby suffer through jaundice, so my goal was to nurse this second baby aggressively. I was nursing him every chance I saw him root for nipple. And when he wasn't satisfied with my three day supply of colostrum, I broke the rule and gave him a little 2 ounce nursette of formula in between. I thought giving the baby formula was awesome because he slept much longer, hence giving me a break. Miraculously, I was able to eat a meal, take a shower, go to the rest room to empty my bladder, or doze off in a nap. Was I worried about nipple confusion? Far from it!
This time also, I broke another rule. I allowed the nurse to give him a pacifier. It wasn't the end of the world for me or the baby. It wasn't like what they scare you into thinking in those breastfeeding books. Why was I made to feel paranoid? There was no need. He was a happy guy after learning what's for suckling and what's for sucking.
It's unbelievable to me that some dads totally play the useless male sperm donor role. They leave it all up to the mom to do it all, while in recovery. My husband is not one of them. He took the baby for a burping after I nursed. He changed every diaper, and didn't shy away from the poopy ones. He swaddled, rocked and had sweet fatherly conversations with the baby. He made sure I drank enough fluids. He made sure that I always got enough rest, while sacrificing his own rest. He's totally hands on. What more can I say?
I survived another round of labor and delivery, thanks to faithful prayers of my family and well-wishes of friends. I am amazed at the nursing staff, especially the cheerful labor and delivery nurse named Carmen who took such good care of me.
So to capsulate the moment, here I am resting during our Golden Hour, cuddling another answered prayer. It's a photo of me in all my sweat and cruddiness. That's exactly how all mommies look like after giving birth. I post it unapologetically, knowing that I conquered the labor and delivery ward. The most rewarding part was being able to meet my new son, Joseph Nicholas.
