The doctor (the only one from the practice that I didn't like, of course) came in when I started pushing and then disappeared....for THREE HOURS. The baby crowned after 20 minutes but WOULD NOT COME OUT, and the doctor was nowhere to be found (seriously, there was not another doctor in the whole hospital?!). I pushed for 2 1/2 hours longer trying to get that baby out, and not half-hearted tentative pushes, but GET THIS BABY OUT SO I DON'T HAVE TO BE PREGNANT ANYMORE pushes. (Let me just mention here that trying for 2 1/2 HOURS to push out a baby who is stuck makes for some VERY UNHAPPY lady parts in the weeks to follow!) When the
Baby was purple (and VERY MAD) so he was quickly whisked off. I was
I spent the next hour snuggling and sniffing and marvelling over MY PRECIOUS NEW BABY!!! And when the nurse came in and said it was their policy to take the baby to the nursery after an hour, I was too
Edited to add: Right after they took the baby, someone came to move me to another room and told me to HOP in the wheelchair. I COULD BARELY MOVE. The epidural had worn off and my body was letting me no in NO UNCERTAIN TERMS that it was NOT HAPPY with the treatment it had received the previous few hours.
Needless to say, by the time they returned him to me he was quite ready to settle in for a nice, long nap, and I spent the rest of the day trying desperately to get him to wake up and eat. He WAS NOT INTERESTED in waking up, and soon the nurses started telling me that if I couldn't get him to eat they were going to have to start an IV because his blood sugar was low (Thing that made me think I might be a bad mother #2). I was eventually able to wake him up a little, but he seemed to be having trouble latching on (Thing that made me think I might be a bad mother #3). Different nurses and the lactation consultant came and tried to help, but this seemed to only make him more mad (did I mention that he just generally seemed REALLY PISSED?). NOBODY EVER CHECKED THE BABY'S MOUTH. (About 9 months later he yawned at a doctor's appointment, and the nurse said, "Wow! His frenulum (thing under his tongue) is really tight; does he have trouble eating?" I wanted to WEEP thinking about the THREE MONTHS of nursing AGONY I had endured...)
In between trying to wake the baby up to eat, I would look at his precious baby face and wait for his name to pop into my head because that is what everybody had said would happen, right?! No luck. The day before we had to leave the hospital, my husband went home and got the baby name book. We searched and searched and finally found a name we liked, that also had a meaning we liked. For blogging purposes, I will call him "Ian".