giving birth to gil

When my son was born, I didnt want to breastfeed him right away. I wanted to hold him, love him, and let him take in the world at whatever pace he needed. So when he plopped out, I couldnt wait to take him into my arms and protect him from all the wrongs in the world. And then in the quiet of our room, I would introduce him to my milk.

Now, why that didnt happen, I dont know. I dont even remember the moments right after his birth, but my husband said that they gave me a quick view of my son then went to clean him, weigh him, do some standard tests, diaper him, do his footprints, let my husband hold him, let my mom hold him and then I got him.

While all of this was happening, I specifically remember thinking, "Did I just give birth?" The two doctors that were stitching me up were joking with me about how fast and easy that was, and how wierd it was that the epidural didnt seem to take. (Thank goodness it didnt, I was so against that stupid epidural.) I remember feeling so energetic and talking my head off to those doctors, that when they finally brought my son to me, my first thought was, "Oh yeah!"

I tried explaining to my (very nice and helpful nurse) that I would be feeding him in my room, but another side of her came out and she started removing the top of my hospital gown and bringing my baby towards me. I remember how my voice on the outside was nice and calm, but inside I was screaming about how I did not want it to be this way.

In the end, she got her way and my son ate for a few minutes. When he lost interest I happily covered back up and started getting ready to leave the labor room. All the nurses couldnt believe I was walking around half an hour after giving birth, like it was a miracle. But to be honest, I just wanted to get out of that room ASAP, and everyone seemed to be taking their sweet time.

The worst part of being in the hospital was that in our room, whenever my son would cry, some nurse would come poke her head in asking if we were ok. Now, most people might like this, and later on my husband said he felt relieved that if we needed help with the baby, those nurses were there. But I felt like they were intruding, which made me anxious and annoyed.

There was also this one doctor, who insisted the baby be fed every two hours. I had to write on paper exactly when I fed him and for how long. If it wasnt every two hours on the dot, I got scolded. Now, I know a newborn needs to eat frequently, but I also know my son, and he let me know if he was interested or not. Seeing that he was also a huge 9 pounder, I felt no need to force feed him. So the rest of my time in the hospital, I fed him when he wanted me to and wrote down what they wanted to read. Then they would look at him and nod happily.

The worst part is that they think they are doing a good job.

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