Newborn Nightmare
Twenty-four hours couldn't come fast enough. I watched the clock intently just waiting to go home with my newborn daughter and husband. I was a kind of tired I had never experienced despite working full-time, and sometimes an extra part-time job on top of that, all while attending college. Had I known what was about to transpire, I most likely would have begged to stay an extra twenty-four, maybe even seventy-two hours.
We anxiously buckled in our fat-faced, 8 lb., 7 oz. child and hit the road. We had already asked our family to give us a few days at home without visitors as an adjustment period. I'm sure none were happy about this, but everyone lived in town, so I didn't feel bad about putting them in a holding pattern.
When we got home, I don't remember much except passing out, sleeping as long as the little bugger would let me before she started screeching for a bottle---breastfeeding had been a bust. I will admit I didn't give it long, but her screaming and the lactation specialist's exhaustive list of helpful hints did nothing but make me frustrated. John was finally the one to demand they bring her a bottle. Even Cool Hand Luke couldn't take it.
The next day, I awoke to a burning sensation all over my body. Slightly alarmed, I checked myself out in the mirror, a scary prospect less than two days after delivering.
Then, I spotted it: A hive.
Panic set in. I had experienced this one other time when given Sulfa for a UTI. I took the whole 10-day dose before my body decided to let me know I was allergic.
The penicillin. I had tested positive for Streptococcus B, so they pumped me full of penicillin during labor so Alyssa wouldn't be affected, obviously unaware, as I was, that I was allergic to the common antibiotic.
Before I knew it, every inch of my body was covered. Lots of people think hives are just itchy and irritating. But, let me clarify that when they are caused by an allergic reaction to something you've taken internally, they are tortuous. Let's put it this way, I would have shoved Alyssa back in and given birth to her again without an epidural in lieu of the hives.
And then, she started crying. That newborn cry. I felt as if someone doused me with lighter fluid and set me on fire. I screeched this time. I told John he needed to take care of her, locked myself in my room and cried for days until the damn medication worked its way out of my body. Add to this that my attempt at breastfeeding and then abrupt stop pissed off my boobs, and they paid me back by becoming hard, hot and painful. Great.
John was worried about me. I was worried about me. I even asked him to find out if there was a return window at the hospital so we could just take her back. I followed it with asking him to take me to a mental hospital since I was obviously the devil incarnate for not feeling warm and fuzzy toward my own child.
Thank God that man knows how to talk me off the ledge!
The hives subsided, and so did my pity party. I walked out one morning to see John passed out on the couch with our little bundle of joy curled up on his chest. It melted my heart and still brings tears to my eyes to this day.
Whatever I missed in the way of bonding that first hellacious week home, I tried to make up for until I had to go back to work just 7 short weeks later. We didn't have a great start, my daughter and I. But, I am happy to say we now have close relationship at a time when lots of daughters start pulling away from their mothers.
She will always be my baby girl.
We anxiously buckled in our fat-faced, 8 lb., 7 oz. child and hit the road. We had already asked our family to give us a few days at home without visitors as an adjustment period. I'm sure none were happy about this, but everyone lived in town, so I didn't feel bad about putting them in a holding pattern.
When we got home, I don't remember much except passing out, sleeping as long as the little bugger would let me before she started screeching for a bottle---breastfeeding had been a bust. I will admit I didn't give it long, but her screaming and the lactation specialist's exhaustive list of helpful hints did nothing but make me frustrated. John was finally the one to demand they bring her a bottle. Even Cool Hand Luke couldn't take it.
The next day, I awoke to a burning sensation all over my body. Slightly alarmed, I checked myself out in the mirror, a scary prospect less than two days after delivering.
Then, I spotted it: A hive.
Panic set in. I had experienced this one other time when given Sulfa for a UTI. I took the whole 10-day dose before my body decided to let me know I was allergic.
The penicillin. I had tested positive for Streptococcus B, so they pumped me full of penicillin during labor so Alyssa wouldn't be affected, obviously unaware, as I was, that I was allergic to the common antibiotic.
Before I knew it, every inch of my body was covered. Lots of people think hives are just itchy and irritating. But, let me clarify that when they are caused by an allergic reaction to something you've taken internally, they are tortuous. Let's put it this way, I would have shoved Alyssa back in and given birth to her again without an epidural in lieu of the hives.
And then, she started crying. That newborn cry. I felt as if someone doused me with lighter fluid and set me on fire. I screeched this time. I told John he needed to take care of her, locked myself in my room and cried for days until the damn medication worked its way out of my body. Add to this that my attempt at breastfeeding and then abrupt stop pissed off my boobs, and they paid me back by becoming hard, hot and painful. Great.
John was worried about me. I was worried about me. I even asked him to find out if there was a return window at the hospital so we could just take her back. I followed it with asking him to take me to a mental hospital since I was obviously the devil incarnate for not feeling warm and fuzzy toward my own child.
Thank God that man knows how to talk me off the ledge!
The hives subsided, and so did my pity party. I walked out one morning to see John passed out on the couch with our little bundle of joy curled up on his chest. It melted my heart and still brings tears to my eyes to this day.
Whatever I missed in the way of bonding that first hellacious week home, I tried to make up for until I had to go back to work just 7 short weeks later. We didn't have a great start, my daughter and I. But, I am happy to say we now have close relationship at a time when lots of daughters start pulling away from their mothers.
She will always be my baby girl.
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