Life after birth – the early days

When I was pregnant with the Wee Man, we did all the usual preparation. Antenatal classes (NCT and NHS), reading some books, using some apps, scouring some websites.

But it’s definitely the case that nothing can really prepare you for the reality of giving birth.

And equally, it seems to be the case that nothing really even attempts to prepare you for the reality of what happens in the days immediately after birth.

We were told about the nappy changing, the lack of sleep, the possibility of (what might feel like) fairly relentless crying. But no-one really told me about physically, how you’ll feel like you’ve been hit by a truck.

I suppose if you think about it, it should be obvious really. Nine months of growing a baby, followed by what might be two or three days of strenuously helping them into the world through a proportionally small and somewhat fragile entrance is clearly going to require some form of healing. But we’d been so focused on preparing for the actual birth and how THAT affects a mother’s body, that little thought was given to the consequences following it.

Lochia, weak and wobbly legs, after pains that I swear sometimes felt just as bad as being in labour – and weeing in the bath, although impractical and fairly icky, becomes also my new favourite idea.

Plus of course there is the fear of the first post-birth poo.

‘Don’t worry, no-one ever tears their stitches’ the midwife reassures me. I am unconvinced. It seems entirely possible and in fact very likely. I resolve never to eat again.

Except…I’ve just spent ages depleting my energy reserves pushing out a baby. And I’m allowed pate and brie again! A little bit of pate and brie won’t hurt, right…?

So the inevitable happens. And ok, it’s true. My stitches do not all rip from my body as I imagined they might. But it does flipping hurt!

Anyway. I found all this out first time round, as I sat uncomfortably on my hospital bed, trying to find a position that was reasonably useful for attempting breastfeeding yet didn’t cause my nether regions to scream that they were being attacked by nettles and pointed sticks. Because you need to establish the breastfeeding, otherwise there’s a whole new area of discomfort and pain to explore…hello mastitis…

So, having been through it before, this time I knew what to expect. And, unlike birth, a strange kind of welcome pain that I knew I could handle, I really wasn’t looking forward to it.

But it actually hasn’t been that bad. There were stitches, and they were uncomfortable. There were afterpains, but they were far less bad than I experienced after giving birth to Bubby D. And the bath has been utilised and the pooing has happened. It all went remarkably well.

I think this has partly been because I knew what to expect, and partly because the care experienced in hospital this time has been so different. The bed had an up and down, recliney electrical control thing which meant moving around and getting comfortable was much easier. The toilets were lovely (I know that might sound strange, but ‘poo fear’ is strangely helped by the presence of flowers in the room and clean smelling facilities!). The midwives were helpful and attentive. The stitching was done carefully and attentively, the birthing process was helped along with the intention of minimising tearing and bruising as much as possible. I think labouring in water for a while probably helped too. I was much more relaxed.

In any case, it’s over with now and it’s not something I’ll ever experience again.

I won’t miss the pain and discomfort.

But those early days of nappy changing, tiny newborn cries, frustrating feeding and of course some wonderful, wonderful newborn snuggles…well those are something I’m already thinking of fondly. Little B is changing before our eyes already. And it’s definitely been worth all the pain.