And just like that we had crossed over to a different realm... I needed to ground myself again after completing the most insane journey of pregnancy and now, having given birth. The enormity of what I had accomplished was beyond my grasp. Just hours ago, we had welcomed our baby into the world and apparently, we were now deemed ready to head home. RIGHT.
Our baby had taken her sweet time to arrive following an induction, after which we spent a few days in the hospital, a location that seemed to exist beyond the confines of time and space, yet conveniently situated just a stone's throw from our own home. We lucked out with a bed by the window in a shared bay, which provided a view... onto the hospital atrium... and unexpectedly provided us with an auditory glimpse into the experiences of four other families recounting their recent birth stories and undergoing post-birth assessments through the thin curtain walls. Meanwhile, I navigated a concoction of recovery medications and intermittent uninspiring meals served on plastic trays. The remnants of our celebratory pizza boxes from the previous night decorated the area next to our baby's transparent crib. Welcome to parenthood.
Certainly, I had experienced the birth first-hand, but credit to my partner who unwaveringly remained by my side throughout the entire process and endured mild hand paralysis through unrequited hand holding and neck massages. A trooper, not once voicing a complaint about the discomfort of sleeping on a plastic chair each night for five nights. While company was a comfort, it became painfully evident when our adrenaline subsided, and both of us succumbed to the harsh jet lag of sleep deprivation. Yet we needed to function better than ever before, all while coping with our newfound responsibility. After my partner – typically composed and dependable – momentarily lost the ability to spell his own surname on re-entry into the ward and required a staggering 90 minutes to complete what should have been a 10-minute roundtrip to the hospital shop for a sandwich (returning with a melted Twister ice lolly?), it was clear that enlisting a friend to drive us home was the wisest choice.
With legs feeling numb and shaky with low iron, I navigated my way to the exit like a determined newborn lamb, bidding farewell to the midwife team. My partner, carrying the obligatory car seat with our precious baby, leading the departure. Stepping out into the open air, even on that gloomy January evening, felt invigorating in a way I hadn't expected. Our friend navigated the traffic with the utmost caution, as if the car were crafted from fragile glass, safeguarding our precious cargo on her inaugural journey.
We crossed the threshold of our flat, sank onto the sofa and found ourselves holding cups of fresh tea. We were there, dazed with a mix of shock and adrenaline, our exhausted, bloodshot eyes meeting as we toasted our newest family member. Our jaws ached from smiling so broadly at the sight of our tiny lodger, swathed in a cozy woolen blanket, nestled peacefully in her Moses basket crib. Our friend discreetly left, allowing us to savor the moment. As we rested our eyes, letting the first of many cups of tea grow cold, we began to comprehend the magnitude of the journey we had embarked upon. And then she didn't sleep for twelve hours...
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