Two months ago yesterday, our lil' pickle was born.
Two months and two days ago, I got my last uninterrupted night of sleep to this day. Maybe ever.
Two months ago today, I swore I would never walk again. I said to myself, “Self, you need to get up out of this bed and move those legs!” And then I said to myself, “Self, there is no way. Just lay here. Die. Give up.”
However, after the ooziness (sorry) of surgery, the desire to shower overtook me, so my wonderful husband held me up as I walked to the bathroom, bent at a 90-degree angle with the ground. So I wasn't exactly standing up, but at least I was moving. Sllllooooowwwwwllllly. That was a rough shower.
Two months ago today, I disregarded my hatred for medications and took a painkiller. A big one. A big FAT one (okay, that's kind of a lie, I took half of a normal dose…but still). And you know what? When it wore off, I took another because it made walking to the shower much MUCH easier. And it was awesome.
Two months ago today, I had a visitor walk in on me as the nurse had me rolled over on my side and was changing my bed linens. Need I remind everyone that the back of the hospital gowns are…spacious. As in no flesh coverage. As in it's all out there. For visitors to see. Flappin' in the wind. AND the bed linens of someone who just finished having a C-section are…oozy (sorry, again). I have since realized that all modesty and self-respect is lost during the first few days following childbirth.
Two months ago today, I was just beginning to learn the adventures of breastfeeding (sorry, AGAIN). All the little “special” secrets that no one tells you until it's too late for you to back out. I almost break a sweat just thinking about it now. Thanks a lot, ladies.
Two months ago today, I had just spent the first 24 hours with my newborn babe and I knew from that day, it would never be like it was.
It would be so, so, SO much better.