That first night was a blur though at one point that night when Dylan was crying for food, I picked him up and put him to the boob. He took to it; I dont know how long for but for that time it was me and him, and he was breastfeeding. This made that long day just seem in the past and right there was my son feeding on me as I wanted. I cant see it from the photos I took of his notes but before that first proper feed from the boob, we tried so may times to get him on and all together hand expressed three times to give him that colostrum. Though I had finally got him on this wasn’t the end of our breastfeeding problems. I like the fact my notes read on the next time when a midwife came in to watch, she wrote that baby had latched well, and that rhythmic sucking and good positioning was observed. I think it took that nursery nurse and her nice way of approaching it all with me to give that support which built me to that moment.
Each day bloods were taken, and this was heartbreaking, seeing this blood come out of his little feet. Thankfully almost every time they did bloods, the man was there to hold him. I just wasn’t strong enough to hold him for this myself. The second night was long; every hour seemed long. I still hadn’t slept or even been able to pause to get around my head around everything. I really didn’t get to reflect on my labour and his birth until we had got home and settled. He was unsettled that night, and after a feed, he was put into the cot by the midwives, this could have been one of the many times I buzzed them to come along. I’m pretty sure this was the point where I was frozen in pain, each time I fed my uterus was contraction, and this was agony. I was on painkillers every 4 hours, but there were times where even these wouldn’t take the edge off this contracting pain, it was like being in labour again at some points as it was so painful.
He was on the boob lots that night, and this seemed to continue, he was constantly on it. Come Tuesday; my poor nipples were killing me – they were so cracked and so very sore. Dylan was constantly feeding, he wasn’t off the boob, and I still hadn’t slept. I couldn’t believe when Dylan just wanted to feed 24/7, and when every time he would sleep, I was disturbed by someone. I remember at some point that afternoon, one of the midwives put a ‘do not disturb’ sign on my door. This seemed to of kept some people away for like an hour or so. I thought I was going home that day; this wasn’t to happen. A doctor came by and said that Dylan needed to stay in to have five days of antibiotics as his crp (C-reactive protein) was now 51. I was distraught, sad that Dylan had to go through this for longer and was sad that I had to stay in. The doctor quickly backed off; I don’t think she quite knew how to handle my tears and the state that I was in. She went and then a midwife came in, I explained how I couldn’t handle another day in there, things were really tough what with no sleep, missing Oli and the man and having those after pains still and sore boobs.
And don’t even get me started on the food. The food was typical hospital food, it was yuck, yuck and more yucky yuck. I ate it though; I needed too. I was a nursing mama who needed all she could get. Breakfast would be around 7ish; this would be cereal and toast which was like rubber – I’m still curious to how it had such a rubber feeling/taste/look to it! Lunch would then be around midday; I realise to get anything half decent you would have to be at the front of the queue. Then 6 hours later at six, you were served supper, this was the issue for me. You were given a trolley full of sandwiches to choose from, again to get anything decent you needed to run for it as soon as they shouted supper. I disliked the fact it wasn’t a hot meal, and as I was told by one of the midwives, they used to do hot meals in the evenings as well as at lunchtime, but this was cut to save some ££. Gesh, I’m sure with the amount my family spent on parking that week could have fed the whole pre and postnatal ward. I think they forget that this was the ward full of pregnant and nursing mums that needed that kinda decent warm meal in the evenings more so than others. Thankfully I had the family to bring me in food parcels, like the cheese and biscuits I got one evening.
I told the midwife that I needed the man to stay, I needed his support that night. She had a chat with the head matron who came in all her officialness and said that he could stay with me, but he wasn’t to leave the room. It was so nice not to be alone that night; it made time not go as slow as it had previous nights.
I wasn’tclock watching which just makes things worse. Though there wasn’t much the man could do as after all, Dylan wanted my boobs not his. I really did need some sleep and rest, between us both we decided to try some formula so that he could take over to give me that much needed rest. I was in hysterics with tears as I approached the midwives desk and tried to explain to the midwife what we had decided to do. She was lovely about it all and totally understood, she went and grabbed me a box of tissues and told me to go back to my room, have some cuddles with the man and that she’ll be in with some. She also explained how she wanted to come and see me earlier on that night but the ‘do not disturb’ sign was still up so she stayed away as she knew I had the man there with me. I really cannot thank that midwife enough for how kind she was to me that night and how she made me feel that little bit less guilty. I really did want to do nothing but breastfeed but that night I really did need that help.