Today is day 7. It's the first time since my last post that
I've had time to sit down and write. But
I would like to discuss the experience at the hospital after your bundle of joy
has arrived and now will be placed next to you for every waking moment, unless
you are the only bad parents (hint - we are) that are willing to send your
newborn to the nursery in order to get some rest.
We'll start with
that. Apparently we were lodged in a
"baby-friendly" hospital, which means that baby bunks with you all
the time unless you ask otherwise. Hint: "Baby-friendly" is another term for
breastfeeding concentration camp, run by the breastfeeding Nazis. The nurses constantly remind you to wake up
baby and put it to breast, whilst a cadre of lactation consultants roams the
halls like the SS during the daytime, waltzing in to whichever room they want
at whatever time they want and shoving the kids face into the mom's boob as if
to smother it. And when I say shove, I
mean it. If I were the little guy, I
would be frightened to death of the flesh mountain that wakes me every two
hours and insists on climbing down my throat.
Plenty more on the
state of breastfeeding propaganda to
come. That shit never stops. In fact, a whole post will be dedicated to
the bullshit of breastfeeding at a later date.
As far as I'm concerned, people who exclusively breastfeed should stop
being hypocrites and go live in the jungle, using only rudimentary stone tools
to slay their meals in the wild. Or go
to a hippie commune and grow all their own food, fully reject technology and
stop bothering all of us normal people with their sanctimonious, fabricated
bullshit.
Anyhoo, back to the
hospital stay. Be warned, when they say
"baby-friendly," that means that it is absolutely parent unfriendly.
A constant barrage of people coming in, so that during the two hours that you
can get sleep, someone is knocking on your door every damn 10 minutes with some
form or another. I shit you not, we were
complaining about it the second day and 5 people stopped by in 10 minutes. I was wondering if this was some sort of
sadistic stress chamber, and we were not lucky enough to be the control group.
And the care seemed
vastly skewed to normal pregnancies.
Lactation consultants spewed their filth, suggesting positions that no
sane person would recommend for someone with a C-section. No rest, which is critical for recovering
from MAJOR SURGERY.
Food -
terrible. Nursing staff - hit or
miss. Lactation consultants -
worthless. Doctors - well, actually
pretty good, when they bother to show up.
Which was never.
Things were so bad
that we decided to pack up and head home on the second day after my wife's
C-section. Hoping that the lack of a
constant stream of people knocking on our door would improve our sleeping
situation (HA-more to come!).
And so, two days
after having her innards removed and stuffed back into her like a
sausage-filled teddy bear, my wife left the hospital with a prescription for
Motrin.
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