Okay,
These five days post-op have thrust me directly back into newborn baby mode.
Not me as newborn baby, though I might have shed a tear or two in complete horror at Jake’s insane screaming while attempting to jump out of the bed while still completely sedated–not asleep, but not in the there and then, either.
You know the drill.
Newborn baby means you can’t leave the house without making arrangements that would humble the pentagon in their detail and flashing blood red WARNING signs all over the forty page “note” you leave whomever is sitting with the kid while you go out to clear the cobwebs from your brain and then wonder if you’re in fact alive at all.
But this was a bit different in that I didn’t have the nine months (or seven as my pregnancies seem to allow) build up to isolation. Nor was I in the post-partum fog that allows a mother to function as though perfectly normal to never change one’s clothes or shower until the late afternoon hours let alone talk to anyone with any sort of civility and genuine engagement in what’s being said.
I thought what I felt–the sudden smack in the face of “wow, I can’t go anywhere and someone’s pawing at me 24/7, I’m up every two hours in the night, etc.–might be similar to what parents who adopt might feel.
Not that adoptive parents don’t jump through excrutiating hoops, rings of fire, and what amounts to emotional torture and nearly unbearable paths to bring baby home. But adoptive mothers’s bodies probably don’t provide that winding down of life–the mother-to-be who is too tired to stay at the party past nine, naps everyday after work, and searing back pain that is just asking for post-partum isolation.ÂÂ
I guess, when you adopt, you’re just suddenly–in a physical sense–blindsided by the change. And perhaps the protective fog encasing the mother’s brain isn’t available to the person who didn’t give birth–that mother or me in the case of Jake’s surgery is suddenly thinking, how the hell did this happen? What the hell is happening? Where is my life? The one that doesn’t require what amounts to “permission” to leave the house?
If I’ve offended anyone with the adoption analogy, I apologize. But I just kept thinking I felt like I had a newborn again but in a shocking sort of way…anyway, the subsequent posts should be coherant, non-offensive and happy so hang in there with me.
And very soon, I’ll be back to your blogs. I miss them.
I understand it. I was made into a foster parent with very much no notice at all, and I had a hell of a time with it. Sure, I have 2 kids of my own, but 3? And now people say that if I ever have a 3rd it will be hard. NO! I will be prepared for it, and it wont be born a toddler.
Everything will be back to normal soon enough.
Hang in there, lady.
I can totally to relate to the life change that is having a new baby. The day before we had our first, we were sitting in our apartment, thinking about what we were going to do. Maybe a movie? Nah, not in the mood. Let’s go out to eat! Italian, Thai, Indian? That kind of thing.
But after the baby was born, all of that was gone. It might as well have never existed. That little teensie little baby was like a concentrated, supercharged, unstable, nuclear brick of enriched uranium dipped in nitro.
Good luck in this recovery phase, Kathie. You’re likely to turn the corner soon, leaving the worst behind you.
I love your take on not being able to “leave the house without making arrangements that would humbe the pentagon.” I feel that way whenever I want to do something as simple as get a haircut. I have to pre-prepare at least one meal and load it in the crockpot, solicit the aid of grandpa’s chauffeuring abilities, and leave notes all around the house like “No TV until homework is done.” Then, when I come home, there’s so much catching up to do, it’s almost not worth it. It might be easier to just grow out my hair. Or maybe I should join Brittney and shave myself bald!
A great post, Kathie. I’m thinking of you, my friend. Hang in there! As someone who hasn’t gone on the childbearing journey yet, I found your post informative…and a little scary. 🙂
You’re dead-on, Kathie — pregnancy affords us the chance to prepare for the shock of it all, as much as is possible. We’ve heard about what it’s like, we’ve read all the books, we’re taking everyone’s advice, and we’re THINKING about it — all….the….time. Suddenly being given a newborn one day must be the most overwhelming, terrifying thing ever. And people look at me funny when I tell them no more babies for us….”You’re gonna miss it!” they say. Give me 30 years or so, then we’ll talk. 🙂 Hang in there girlfriend, I feel your pain! (DH and I keep asking each other, “HOW long until the last one’s outta the house??….)
Different perspective here ladies. It’s not the newborn phase that is bad for me. That is ok. In fact, I am pretty good to go when I get home from the hospital. Sleep, eat, cry–I can deal. –And, they are so easy to shuttle around! Its the 3 to 6 month blob phase that really does me in and wears me down. Once I am out of that and they can crawl and keep themselves happy for a even a moment, I am soooo happy.
As for you today Kathie, you have my sympathy. I don’t want to think of my 5 year old recovering from surgery. I’m sure his “Male Gene Secret Sick Code” would kick in and his pain and suffering would be dramatic and needy. That would be worse than any type of sleep deprivation.
Thanks everyone,
Mimi, I think my perspective is different on the newborn front because we weren’t allowed to take Jake or Beth out for months since they were premature. So there was no happy schlepping of teeny babies tucked into carseats sucking away on binky’s…there was just taking turns leaving the house. CC, that’s funny your countdown to exit–don’t let it go by too fast–we’ll miss this in the end–when they’re locked down at some freaking university dodging bullets, jumping out of windows. That’s what I tell myself anyway.
This post hit home since I have a special needs child who is hard to take out. My husband still, after 5 1/2 years doesn’t get what that homebound isolation can do to the woman who seemed sane when he left in the morning. I’ve had my days when I’ve lost it…or drank too much at night! Fortunately, I now have good help…but man if they cancel look out. Good luck with recovery. Kathy
Kathy,
I can’t imagine when homeboundedness is ongoing. It was at one point and this short episode (compared to anything you’re dealing with) just immediately shot me back there. It is strange how hard it is to be shut in. I mean, shouldn’t it be fun? All your own stuff, etc. Ughh, hang in there and glad you have the help you need.
LOL. Yes, it sounds a lot like adoption, all right! Jon and I were sitting in our hotel room doing crosswords one minute (well…I was, he was pacing), and the next minute we had a child.
I would imagine that what you are going through is similar. Hope you are getting some rest.
Beth, thanks a lot…glad to know I didn’t say anything offensive. When’s the last time you did a crossword?
Beth, thanks a lot…glad to know I didn’t say anything offensive. When’s the last time you did a crossword?