Well, the worst is over. We’ve hit the 2 week mark and I’m seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I find it funny how everyone prepares you for pregnancy and delivery, but nobody really talks about what recovery will be like. Even if everything goes well with the delivery, the first week is hell.

The bruising. The bleeding. The hemorrhoids that bleed and hurt when you stand, and worse when you sit. The diapers and ice packs and tucks pads and creams that you have to stuff into hospital-issued mesh panties. The anesthetic spray that doesn’t do a damned thing. The squirt bottle you have to use instead of toilet paper every single time you pee. The extra bleeding and pain brought on every time you poop. The dreadfully sore nipples that scream every time a piece of fabric brushes up against them - not to mention when a little baby attacks them with a hungry mouth. The sitz baths, sitting there shivering in 2 inches of water that comes up just far enough to tickle your butt crack, knowing that the only thing you really want from life at that moment - to sink into a full bath of warm water - is off limits for 5 more weeks.

Yep. Postpartum Week One genuinely SUCKS.

Week Two is better, but still comes with trials of its own. The pain starts to give way to the sharp insatiable itching that comes with any healing wound - itching that can’t be scratched because it’s either in an inaccessible part of your body, or doing so would result in intense pain. The bruising begins to heal, meaning that you can walk without waddling. The more minor hemorrhoids start to disappear. The belly loses the remainder of its pregnancy weight, leaving you with the poundage that you’ll actually have to work to lose. Invariably, it’s more than you expected (ouch) and the bathroom scale becomes the enemy once again.

But once that two-week mark comes around, the sun begins to shine again. It also helps being able to take the baby out, because feeling like a prisoner trapped in your own house can make you crazy.

But in the end, you realize that the pain and agony are temporary and that you will be left with this:

Totally worth it.

I now fully understand why nursing mothers get addicted to Vicodin. Contrary to popular belief, it has nothing to do with the narcotic or addictive properties of the medication. It is because, when taken in the evening, THE BABE, HE SLEEPS THROUGH THE NIGHT.

Dude, sleep is way more addicting than narcotics.

I spent Father’s Day laid up in bed with a really sore back. I didn’t even get J a card. He says he doesn’t mind though because a) he got a son for Fathers Day, and b) he spent Mothers’ Day laid up in bed with an illness and the flowers he ordered for me never came - so he figures we’re even.

We’re all home and adjusting to life with 2 kids. My parents volunteered to relieve Button of her cabin fever this afternoon, so she’s currently swimming over at their house - undoubtedly having a blast. J’s parents are at a movie, so it’s just the two of us and a very sleepy baby. And it’s now that I realize how easy it is to care for just one child, especially a newborn. I suppose it’s all relative though, because I don’t remember feeling that it was easy the first time around.

Our little guy was induced on Thursday and everything went as planned with the exception that he made his appearance earlier than expected. Following his sister’s footsteps, I suppose. At least the doctor was already at the hospital this time - she almost missed it last time.

He tried to turn his head funny coming out, so I ended up with 3rd degree tears (again) but since he took a full 5 minutes of pushing to come out (instead of 10 seconds), the doctor did have time to do an episiotomy this time. Consequently, I think the healing process is going faster this time around.

And God bless Wayne, the epidural doctor. Sidestepping “Eve’s curse” is truly a lifesaver. I had a few minutes of experiencing a small fraction of what it would be like to go “natural” and believe me when I say I want no part of that.

The head-turn resulted in a squished nose for the baby, but fortunately it’s straightening itself out.

I have a ton of pictures on my camera that I have yet to download or look at, but when I do I’ll be sure to post a couple here.

Honestly, the most difficult part of this has been LB. She did not do too well with us both being gone at the hospital, and suffered quite a bit of anxiety and outright sadness about it, especially at night. It was heartbreaking, and there was nothing we could do about it. Unfortunately, “Mama and Daddo will be home soon” wasn’t much consolation, and her inability to sleep well contributed to her overall stress level.

She’s much happier now that we’re home, and she’s totally in love with her Baby Brother. Which is, of course, good and bad. She’s a bit overstimulated and has more energy than normal (which is, um, a lot), so getting her to be still and calm and quiet around the baby has been a total lost cause.

Being the incredibly tactile kid that she is, she wants to hold/touch/kiss him 24 hours per day and does not understand why she can’t. My heart has skipped a thousand beats so far. We’ve let her hold the baby in her lap, but it requires constant attentiveness because, well, SHE’S TWO.

When she’s not holding the baby, she’s trying to climb onto whoever is. She’s relentless and spends every waking minute trying to touch the baby, which is stressful because there is literally no “safe” place we can put him that she can’t get to, aside from holding him while we’re standing up. So we’ve had to begin a pretty intense “training” session with her on where the boundaries are, with strict and consistent consequences. It requires constant energy, and more of it than I have at this time.

I know that sounds like a lot of complaining, and I don’t mean to imply that she’s being “bad.” She’s just TWO and very fascinated by this new person in her household. She calls him “Sweetheart” and “Little Fella” and becomes very concerned about his well-being at the slightest frown. She offers him pacifiers and blankets and words of comfort while she gently strokes the back of his head. “It’s alright, Sweetheart, you don’t have to be upset. Are you hungry Little Fella?” And once we get past this “training” period, I’m sure my stress level will lower substantially.  It’s already getting better as she’s learning the “new rules.”

Anyway, our little guy is an exceptional sweetie and we’ve really enjoyed having him so far.

So Tomorrow’s the big day.  I go in at 7:30am for the induction and (hopefully) shortly thereafter Munchkin #2 will make his appearance.

Still haven’t come up with a proper nickname for him, which is problematic both for this blog and real life.  We actually do call Little Button by her nickname in real life, and for some reason we feel compelled to come up with a comparable nickname for Spawn 2.  Any suggestions?

I woke my doctor up last night, convinced that I was going to have to go in earlier than the scheduled date.  Contractions 15 minutes apart and and all that jazz.  She told me to come in to the hospital when the contractions got down to 10 minutes apart.

They never did.  In fact, as the night progressed, they got further and further apart, until this morning when they were almost nonexistent.   How disappointing.  If I’m going to have a sleepless night, I think I should at least get a baby out of it.

So we’re still on schedule for tomorrow.  Contractions and baby movement are still happening, just very sporadically (drums fingers on desk).

I am such a MOM.

It suddenly got really dark around here, the weather station is showing a huge storm of some sort coming directly toward us in the next half hour. It’s “red” which is apparently the most intense color on the radar. The sirens are going off over and over and over again all over the place.

AND I AM PISSED BECAUSE I’M AFRAID THEY’RE GOING TO WAKE BUTTON UP FROM HER NAP.

UPDATE: So… we never got that storm. While the weather channel was saying we were getting blasted by fierce rain and tornadoes… the sun was shining down on our house.  Figures.