Posts Tagged ‘hospital’
Wednesday, February 6th, 2008
Or rather, a message about a bottle … a bottle of cold pressed sesame seed oil.
I was too stubborn to do the baby-bathing test before I left the hospital. I was totally unprepared for how minuscule baby would be and the thought of trying to wash him in a bath of water while supporting him from head to toe was more than I could comprehend (on top of all the other stuff I couldn’t quite comprehend).
There’s a solution: a sturdy changing table with a comfy changing mat; a plastic bowl; a few facecloths; a baby massage book and a bottle of cold pressed organic sesame oil (there are other oils that can be used but this was the most lightweight I could find). At bath time, the naked baby is wrapped in a towel on the changing mat while you work on each part of the body separately, massaging the oil into baby’s skin (and even the head). Once complete, you use a facecloth and a basin of perfectly warm water to wipe baby down before drying gently and dressing.
This is not only a way around the cumbersome process of bathing, it is also better for baby’s skin – sorting out skin rashes and cradle cap, amongst other things – the massage is great for baby’s body, and it is an incredible bonding experience. While I hate to differentiate between the functions of mum and dad (mainly because it is usually a gross generalisation more than anything else and my husband proved to be a better mother than I was at times), it is a fact that there are men out there terrified of caring for their babies. This massage method brings an easy caring experience to dads as well, and at the right time of day too.
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Tags: baby, bath, dads, hospital, massage, parenting, skin
Posted in best reads, bhalababy | 1 Comment »
Thursday, November 15th, 2007
The volume on bhalababy has been muted for too long so I have decided to turn it up with a sample of freewriting from baby’s first photograph.
‘Please wipe my cheek’, she asks as another tear rolls down, dragged in the wake of the one that has gone before. Her husband leans in and, as he does so, a tear of his own drops down to meet those he is wiping away. These are not sad tears but tears of relief and joy and love. The mound on her belly has been slit open to release the yell of a tiny baby; and not only that but it has released the anticipation and apprehension that has been mounting for the six months since they had discovered their lives were going to change forever. The theatre, a usually sterile, white, odourless and lifeless place is transformed. Her joy bubbles into laughter; her head flicking from side to side attempting to make eye contact with someone; anyone she can focus on; anyone she can share another anecdote with to disperse these overwhelming emotions. The doctors and theatre nurses squelch in their wellington boots through the river of blood and amniotic fluid which is turning the floor her favourite colour. She takes the swaddled baby and smiles. Her nose wrinkles but the tears no longer flow.
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Tags: baby, childbirth, hospital
Posted in bhalababy | No Comments »
Wednesday, August 29th, 2007
But, having said that, there are things you aren’t told when schedules are being done and options are being narrowed down and made, and I will have to list them to distance myself as much as possible from these admissions:
- It’s a totally freaky experience being fully awake and knowing that your insides are spilling all over the operating table and there is blood and fluid flowing like a fountain from your belly – the gynae and theatre nurses have to wear wellies (enough said). Don’t ever look at the overhead light, as you will be terrified by the reflection.
- You are given your baby at about the same time as a shot of morphine in your thigh – the effect of the drug is not conducive with (a) safety and (b) bonding.
- It’s fucking sore when the drugs wear off.
- It’s fucking sore when you have to get up to go to the toilet for the first time after they take the catheter out.
- You get a suppository – this is supposedly for the alleviation of the pain but, when you are crapping your guts out, it is revealed that it is all a cover and it is really to prevent you clogging up, getting constipated and having to push so hard that your stitches pop out.
- You are incapable of coping with a tiny baby at home when your husband only has three days of paternity leave (RSA Labour Law sucks … believe me, I know).
- You are incapable of coping without your parents or in-laws around.
- You are incapable of coping WITH your parents or in-laws around.
- It is perfectly normal to have permanent nerve damage in your coccyx – my feeling in that area disappeared totally for over a year and now the pain is making up for the long-term loss.
- The entry point of the spinal block needle comes back to haunt you by causing the most excruciating pain – this when you are constantly having to pick up a 13kg bundle.
Perhaps the NHS should change their propaganda slogan. Or perhaps they tried … but, admittedly, the above list doesn’t make for a particularly catchy slogan.
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Tags: caesarian, childbirth, hospital, in-laws, list, NHS, parents, spinal block, too posh to push
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Wednesday, June 13th, 2007
The last time I had this thought was when I was cycling the Argus (109km around the Cape Peninsula i.e. many, many hills), the day after arriving in Cape Town on holiday – with a hangover. I am not a cyclist so the 7+ hours it took me to complete the course felt like an eternity. This is like motherhood, except motherhood is an eternity.
A new mother should never be let out of hospital so soon. Unless there is a support team, a few cheerleaders and several spare bicycles, no one would embark on a race of such epic proportions. You leave the support behind when you walk out of the hospital, armed with nothing more than a tiny baby and a bottle of painkillers.
The rush was so intense, the painkillers were sure to push me over the edge. So I endured the pain and let the exhaustion get me instead. This is a race with no finishing line.
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Tags: baby, cycling, exhaustion, hospital, motherhood, support, village
Posted in bhalababy | 1 Comment »
Friday, June 8th, 2007
There I lay, veiled in a drug-induced mist, recovering from the trauma of surgery. I hadn’t learnt anything from my hospital ‘trial-run’ the weekend before and found it almost impossible to ring the bell for help. Friends came and went, my husband was there almost permanently and, even when I didn’t ask for it, I had nursing staff buzzing about checking this and that, taking my temperature, giving me sponge baths … and an unwanted suppository at some point.
Not the type for broodiness and maternal instincts, I none-the-less recollect an almost immediate instinct to nurture. Regardless of all the activity, the exhaustion and the drugs, I insisted that the nurses bring me my baby every four hours through the night … whether he was sleeping or not … so I could nourish him. I returned him to the nursery immediately afterwards so I could get my rest and, come morning, I had him by my side where I could gaze at him sleeping, lift him to feed him and lay him against my skin so he could feel my warmth and feel safe. It doesn’t take any form of maternal instinct to realize the trauma a baby must go through being ripped from the warmth and quiet of a watery womb and into the foul smells, noise and bright lights of the physical world. From a miniscule part of each parent, a body is formed, through which a soul can reach the world. I was intensely aware of the fragility of the situation. And he clung to me, somehow realizing that I was his life-support.
We co-existed like this for 4 days.
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Tags: childbirth, hospital, maternal, morphine
Posted in best reads, bhalababy | No Comments »
Thursday, June 7th, 2007
My R14, 000 childbirth budget was burning a hole in my pocket. And no, this was not the hormones dictating the need to go on a pre-baby spending spree; this was a legitimate amount of ‘spare cash’ earmarked for the hospital bill, which Liberty Life had so graciously agreed to settle.
There I was, post-op drugged on morphine, (f)lying in a bed in a general ward, hooked up with needles and trying to suckle a newborn. Surrounded by smiling faces, a few tear-mixed congratulations and the noises of 7 other exuberant families … all in the same room … was more than any ripped open, stitched up, new mother can be expected to deal with. Through the haze of the drugs and adrenalin, I managed to slur a demand to my husband. Ten minutes later I was being wheeled out of purgatory and into a private room-with-a-view.
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Tags: hospital, morphine, private room
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Thursday, June 7th, 2007
I knew the due date and I knew I was having a boy … so no surprises there. But everything else … Let me just say that you can buy a cot, decorate the nursery, book your foetus into high school, but you can never be prepared for what follows after that first cry when that tiny baby is ripped from your belly. They may as well rip your heart out too because from there on out, you wear your heart outside your body.
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Tags: childbirth, first cry, hospital
Posted in best reads, bhalababy | 1 Comment »
Wednesday, June 6th, 2007
There are some very good things to be said about booking a caesarian, especially for a control freak like me. There is so much in life that you just can’t plan and I wasn’t going to have potentially the most
significant event in my life taking me by surprise. I had bought 6 month’s worth of baby supplies and clothes, tested out the breast pump, washed and cleaned everything in the house and made up the cot with white percale fitted sheet and cellular blanket.
Once the last of the furniture was in it’s place, I could soak in the bath, sip a cocktail of champagne and Rescue Remedy and fully prepare for the imminent arrival at approximately 8am the following morning.
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Tags: breast pump, equipment, hospital, supplies
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Monday, June 4th, 2007
I had always been under the impression that gynaes were gung ho about natural childbirth. Gynaes and midwives. On my trial run to the hospital I discovered the latter to be untrue when each of the four midwives advised against ‘pushing it out’, citing incontinence at age 80 as the reason. Now my gynae was trying to convince me that surgery was the best route.
‘I don’t want to disappoint you but it is unlikely that your child will come out naturally. Have you considered having a Caesarian?’
A few things went through my head on hearing these words. He either really thought that my small frame and the large head of my unborn child would pose a space problem or, being close to retirement date, he didn’t want to leave anything up to chance with his final deliveries.
And, hey, I needed no convincing. With all the advances of medical science, would someone with a heart problem ponder their dying wishes when they could have a triple bypass or a pacemaker installed?
Again to quote my gynae, ‘you don’t have to be a hero.’ Being a parent is good enough (that part is mine). It’s got nothing to do with posh and a hell of a lot to do with practical.
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Tags: caesarian, gynae, hospital, incontinence, surgery
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Tuesday, May 29th, 2007
I didn’t want to bother my gynae. I thought it was bratty and spoilt to complain about night sweats and prickly skin when I was having a relatively pampered pregnancy. After all, I was almost full term and I knew weird things were supposed to be going on. A lot of weird stuff happens to your body. A lot of weird stuff happens to your mind. You feel like you are living in an alien form and your brain is being chomped away by space bugs. Night sweats were the least of my worries. Until, that is, I realized I had a full blown bladder infection, started having contractions and had to be hooked up to machines for monitoring lest the baby had to be extracted a week early due to the fever. That was the bad part. The good part was that the medical aid had kicked in the day before. I also got a trial run to the hospital, a tour of the maternity floor and three days with my feet up.
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Tags: contractions, hospital, infection
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