I don’t remember much of that night. Baby J was born at 8:21pm and I have a memory gap from just after that to probably 9:30 or 10pm. I remember being in the OR. Then I was back in my L&D room with my husband holding my baby, my mother-in-law, and my parents there. I remember being in a fog and shaking uncontrollably. The nurse assured me that shaking was a normal part of recovery- whether from the anesthesia or the hormones or the shock.
I watched my baby from across the room. I desperately wanted to hold him but I was shaking so violently that I wasn’t comfortable. Finally, the shaking calmed enough to hold him. When I took him in my arms, I remember the instant feeling of love wash over me. I was blessed to be one of those moms that fell in love with that baby from the first moment. I remember thinking that he was perfect and I was so glad that he was here, okay, outside. I had waited so long for him and here he was, a perfect, tiny 9 lb, 2 oz handsome boy. The shaking got tremendously better after I held him and put his warm skin next to mine.
We tried to nurse but he was so drowsy. Everyone but my husband left and it was just us. A perfect trio. We were complete.
Those first few days were different than I expected. I had read everything possible about breastfeeding and talked to countless breastfeeding moms about their successes and struggles. My mom had successfully breastfed all 3 of us until we each weaned, including tandem nursing my older brothers. I was sure I was prepared for whatever challenge might lie ahead with it and I’d endure. My issue was that I didn’t expect that my baby might not be prepared for the challenge. We fumbled for those first weeks and it took many, many hours and some other fixes to make our breastfeeding relationship a success.
But here we are: 21 weeks later, almost 20 pounds heavier (he’s about 25 lbs now) and over 7 inches longer. My chunky monkey is a nursing champion now.