Stories of life in the suburbs with Husband and our daughter Squishy and son Button!

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Congrats! Have a Sandwich!

My first memory after giving birth to my daughter, Squishy, is being all alone.

Let's face it, the hospital staff is there to deliver and care for the babies and mothers. After you poop out your brand new infant, they slap some bracelets on you and baby so they don't get all mixed up, and move on to the next expert-mommy-to-be to help her. 

Since Squishy had to be taken to the nursery for some precautionary tests, I was left alone after delivery. I sent my husband with the baby, and I was told that someone would be along to fetch me and take me to the nursery. But in the meantime...
Have a sandwich.

That's right, my reward for giving birth was a dark room and a sandwich. 

It was 3:30 in the morning. Half an hour ago, I was pushing out a baby, the lights were on, there were four other people in the room. Now the lights were off and the people were gone. More importantly: my baby wasn't there. Neither was my husband. But I had a sandwich! 

A cold turkey sandwich with limp lettuce. It was one of those box lunches, and it was obviously from the previous day's lunch rounds. I was obviously in some kind of post-delivery haze because I hate turkey, but sure as shit I put the mayo and mustard on that thing and scarfed it. Then I ate the chips. And the cookie. I left the applesauce, I don't like solid foods you don't have to chew. I also said this out loud for no one to hear:

"This sandwich is good, but it would be nice to see my f***ing baby sometime soon!"

I shook my head and giggled a little. I was a new mommy, but I wasn't the only paitent on the floor. I know that during my labor, my midwife was shuffling between three laboring ladies. Kudos. 

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