The Before, During and After

It began in a snowstorm.

Yes, of all days that I was scheduled to be induced, the blizzard of 2010 had to commence in the wee hours of that morn...

Hoboken was a disaster and when I say disaster, I mean it was its own State of Emergency; not a single road was plowed until the storm had ended Monday night.  Then all hell broke loose and we began our trip to the hospital...

One would think that with the 46% tax increase a few years back, the city would have some money (and the sense not to piss of its residents) to get the plows on the road at the first dusting.  Hmm, is Dawn Zimmer in cahoots with Bloomberg?

I used to think that Hoboken was a civilized oasis in the midst of urban chaos but that was then, this is now; animals, this town.  Animals.

Fortunately, once our hour long exit out of this mile square dropped us into neighboring Weehawken, we were pleased to find that it's a town ruled by logic: "Hmm, Supervisor, I hear there's a big snow storm on its way". "That's right, workers, get out there and start keeping 'em streets clear when you see the first flake!".

Yep, this is probably 1.5 miles from our front door...

Our trip to Ridgewood was speedy and uneventful, save spying a few poor souls who had attempted to use on/off ramps that led to nowhere but giant plow banks of snow.  Upon arrival at Valley Hospital, we were ushered into a birthing room where Matt was plied with sandwiches and treats and I was treated to a string of Cervidil.  Matty got comfy in his pull out chair bed and I took charge of the remote.  Game on.

The next morning, I was awoken bright and early and hooked up to a few more lines: the Pitocin had commenced and for the next 14 hours or so, my darling husband was held captive by my television choices; by fortuitous grace, I caught the beginning of a Bethenny Getting Married marathon and we watched the entire thing.  By the middle of it, Matty was willing to admit that she's damn funny and down to earth.  Hallelujah ! (she is, after all, my idol). 

Unfortunately, my path seemed to mirror hers, because after 25 hours, 14 of those hooked to pitocin, I refused to dilate and just like Bryn Hoppy, Little Eliza Skye LaPointe was delivered via C-section (or as MacDuff tells Macbeth in the final act of the play, she was "from [her] mother's womb [timely] ripp'd") at 8:10 pm.  I will not use the language Matty used to describe the procedure itself but I'll say that from my spinal tapped point of reference, it was the closest to starring in a science fiction film that I'll ever come... but it was all worth it because her head is perfectly shaped... lol.

My recovery, however, was a bit of a disaster, as I left the hospital 8 pounds heavier than when I entered and by my second day home, my swelling had increased to a disastrous proportion (thanks to 4 days hooked to an IV and the surgery itself). I could barely move or get in and out of bed without Matt's help; when I did walk, I had to drag a leg behind me - very attractive and practical for a new mother with a tiny infant to care for.

This is mild compared to how it got...

Yep, those early days were a nightmare: there's nothing worse than not being able to physically take care of your baby.  Matty did almost all of the feedings and changings for days; thank goodness he was off work for a week and a half or I would have gone out of my mind.  There were moments, like when the right side of my body swelled to twice the size of the left, that I honestly thought I wouldn't make it.  I was convinced I had a blood clot -the hospital had warned that I should notify my doctor immediately if the swelling grew "uneven"... hmm, 2:1 is pretty uneven... but luckily, despite the unbalanced bloat, I was fine. 

Monday was my two week check up and I'm happy to report that I was finally able to wear socks! And my Uggs slipped on instead of having to be forced over my former Stay Puff Marshmallow Man feet! Dr. Rooney surveyed the incision and reported that I am the only gal who's managed to remove the glue that covered the opening on my own, which is apparently a good thing (and considering there was a box labeled "scalpel" pulled out when I entered the examining room, I'm glad I am good at glue removal, too, even though I haven't ever done as much as look at the incision area).  

Matt is a superstar dad who enjoys feeding her immensely and tolerates changing her when I'm not around... he wouldn't mind that part at all except that is the only time that The Cheeks (as we've affectionately taken to calling her until she's old enough to hate us for it) is taken to screaming bloody murder on the changing table.  Who thought it was a good idea to design baby clothing that requires one to shove a small, soft head through a smaller, more rigid opening?  

Her fussing doesn't bother me, though, because I know that she may look like her father but like her mother, she is drawn to the dramatic and is just practicing for her first time on stage when she'll hopefully  play the role of the doomed ingenue!

And so, that's that.  I'll leave you with a pic of the Cheeks, taken by Celine Marie Photography whom many of you will recognize as my former partner in crime over at Life as We Blog It and who also shot my amazing wedding photos in Scotland.

Gotta go check on The Cheeks; hopefully, the crack swing has done its job and I can pop her back in her crib and catch some shut eye!