Believe everything they tell you about sleep deprivation. It's true.
Even my higher-functioning, well-slept self would have trouble explaining to you the joy and sheer bliss I felt at taking my daughter out of the hospital and home. Home. With us. To live.
I had always said that I wouldn't believe it was all real until I held my baby in my arms. I was mistaken. It turns out I still didn't believe it - not until I was home and nursing her in the comfort of my rocking chair in her lovely nursery. The fear of the NICU and all that implies kept me from really truly believing that everything would be okay, despite everyone's assurances, and my knowledge of the typical outcome of an otherwise healthy, near-term infant with Respiratory Distress Syndrome. You know me: I don't buy the odds.
But we're home now. And guess what: My baby smells better than anything I've ever experienced. Like sweetened condensed milk. I bend over specifically to smell her all the time.
We're also healing. Hannah's heel pricks are looking less irritated every day. My staples came out this afternoon. We're breastfeeding up a storm. Apparently, I ordered the self-latching variety of infant, and man, am I glad I did. The three days of no feeding and using a pacifier in the NICU did nothing to deter this girlie's lust for the bust.
Many thanks to all of you for your prayers, good wishes, and comments. I haven't even had time to read them all. But I am trying. When presents began arriving at my house today I recalled that I gave permission to Shelba to throw me an online baby shower - despite the fact that it was totally and completely unneccessary. (I know I've just doubled a few too many letters in that word, but damned if I'm gonna spell check.) The generosity of my online friends never ceases to amaze me. I know that all those positive thoughts coming at us from around the globe were no small part of the miracle that was Hannah's birth.
I am still dumbfounded that my surgery went so well. In my mind, my best-case scenario didn't even touch what really happened. I am totally in love with my doctor. Truly. When she ended the surgery and went to tell my husband the good news, she actually ran in and hugged him. Seriously.
Before surgery began, she told me that she felt so positively about it that she and the gynecological oncologist had scheduled a lunch date - not a dinner date. The former joked that all she got to do during the surgery was put in the staples. Not exactly a challenge for a surgeon of her calibur. All the teams involved were fabulous. And apparently, I was the talk of the hospital.
Anyway, there' s a ton more I could talk about, and will, but my brain is about to shut down in an effort to conserve energy for more vital functions - like milk production.
Oh, and yes, my mom does rock. So much so that you can't even imagine it.
And so does my husband.
And yes, my daughter is the most beautiful newborn ever. You can't tell me otherwise.
:)
