Saturday, November 15, 2014

The true story of Parenthood - Part 2 - the long road home


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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