Today’s Writing Wednesday topic, “Firsts,” is the brainchild of the fabulous Margarita Belle Nicole at Sitting Still. She and Mrs. Flinger put their collective bloggy creativity together and came up with Writing Wednesday. If you’d like to participate, put the link to your blog post in the comments or just write them below!
After four nights confined to a small room with nothing to eat but hospital cafeteria food, I was ready to escape flimsy oversized nursing gowns, mesh washable panties, and nurses monitoring my every bodily function. I was ready to go home with my husband and beautiful new daughter and be a mother. Beaten down mentally for the last time by the boob nazi (aka lactation consultant) and longing for my own bed, we packed our things in a frenzy after I was finally released late on a Monday afternoon. I had crammed hospital baby blankets, newborn diapers, and enough freebie bulb syringes to siphon the snot out of every infant within a 5-mile radius into my overnight bag. The hubby had loaded the trunk down with presents in pastel gift bags and flower arrangements sent by friends and family. I had nervously strapped Caitlin in her infant car seat, sweating with anxious hormonal fear that I had somehow not done it right and she would be crippled for life while she peered from beneath a sea of pink, all the while sucking contentedly on a pacifier at her clueless new mama. I don’t have any pictures of our getaway because I was so anxious to get home. (In contrast, we have several photographs of Amelia’s trip home from the hospital but I was feeling a thousand times better emotionally, mentally, and physically.) The weather was perfect for early June. It was sunny with not a cloud in the sky, quite the contrast to the 3 a.m. drive in the thunderstorm we made days earlier when my labor pains progressed to the point where I was oblivious to the crazy laboring lady things I was shrieking at the graveyard shift security guard standing watch at the door to mecca, otherwise known as the altar of epidurals. I sat in the back seat of our Honda as we listened to the same classical music CD we’d listened to on the way to the hospital days before. I looked out the window and then down at our beautiful little girl and I cried, like a baby, all the way home.