Postpartum Postsmartum Paranoia

There's something a lot of people leave out when they tell you about pregnancy - they don't tell you you'd feel like a Tikbalang had his way with you in the aftermath.

But if the Horse was Khal Drogo, it wouldn't be rape.

My. Whole. Body. Hurts.

They also don't say much about how difficult breastfeeding can be. Malaya doesn't have tongue tie. I just didn't know how to feed him. We're also still learning, and although the learning curve is painful, a rock hard breast is worse than a scratched nipple. VCO's been a wonderful nipple cream btw.

And much less likely were the chances of anyone warning me about how much of a hassle it is to bring around baby's still intact umbilical cord and placenta.


All these factors combined means mobility is obviously compromised. Even with Lola Diana or Daddy Chris around to hold him/burp him/cradle him to sleep, he still needs to feed all the time, and unfortunately for me, neither of them are lactating.

Let me paint a clearer picture for you: Mommy's lying in bed cause sitting on her ass hurts, and then the fragile little Curmudgeon starts pursing his lips. She tries to lift him into a more favorable position for breastfeeding. But she is a noob and he can't seem to latch on his belly, so she needs to get up. But she already has him in her arms. She tries to get up, and he yelps because his umbilical cord snagged something. So now one hand has the placenta bowl and another hand has Baby. She forgets her abs are nonexistent at this point and makes the mistake of trying to get up without support. She ends up whisper-hollering for Daddy, who pulls her up to position. By the time this whole routine is over, Baby is bawling his cute little lungs out and gets too cranky to properly latch. Immediately, she sits on her ass to attend to him. He finally latches, except it's shallow, but it's better than nothing. Now Mommy has back pains from being hunched over, she's sitting on her painful ass, and her nipple stings. But she's smiling like a nut because Baby is actually feeding now.

Oh slapstick comedy.

Baby went out of the house for the first time the other day to get screened at the hospital.

Important to note: I noticed first thing that morning that Malaya wasn't as red as he was the first two days. His color seemed to be closer to mine than Chris's. Daddy is a dark moreno. I have olive (yellowish) skin.

He slept all throughout the bumpy car ride. Probably wasn't anything to him after all the bumping and swaying inside the tummy. At the hospital, Lola carried her apo proudly down the corridor to the nursery while Chris and I followed at a slower pace, watching the horrified looks bystanders gave the placenta bowl as they passed. He was sleeping on the table calmly until the nurse pulled out the prick(..ing device). Baby started crying before but not much after the blood letting. What's the opposite of delayed reaction? Spidey senses? Baby has dem.

As the nurses finished up, lola dropped the placenta bowl, and the placenta fell out, hanging by the tensed cord. More baby crying. Ouch.

Back at lola's office, I asked about having his nails cut, since he seems to like scratching his own face so much. Chris thinks it's his way to show enemies that he fears no pain. Like warpaint. Lola pulled out a keychain with a nail cutter attached and unceremoniously cut baby's finger instead of his nail. Baby bawled and proceeded to paint his face with his own blood.

exactly like this

Needless to say, I was a bag of nerves for the next few hours and refused to let the excited lola near Malaya again for most of the day (or I tried at least) and just wanted to go home with the baby and stay put til the cord had fallen off and I wasn't so sore down there. We ran a few more errands before going to the pediatrician for his first check up.

She was nice, she didn't balk at the placenta, said the bellybutton was cleaning up nicely, and gave me breastfeeding advice, no mention of formula whatsoever (yay!). Then she told us he had jaundice and sent us back to the hospital to get his blood tested.

Jaundice is common in newborns. There are several reasons, one of which is incompatible blood types between mother and child. The pedia told us that if it was incompatibility, Malaya would have to stay at the hospital for phototherapy treatment til he was good. Oh noes.

So we were back at the hospital. The lab technician was curious about the placenta and the birthing as she'd heard about it from Ate Ellie (the midwife), and lola gladly shared information. And then it was back to the prick. Technician-lady asked why we didn't just get his blood tested the same time blood was taken for the screening. I asked the same thing earlier that day and got no answer, so we shrugged. No use crying over the small inefficiencies after the fact. :/

But Malaya took the pain like a pro. Technician-lady gave her machines a whirl and after a few minutes, told us baby had my blood type, ruling out incompatibility.

The doctor said it was nothing to worry about, and recommended we bathe him in sunlight for 15 minutes first thing in the morning every day til he stopped being a Simpson and continue breastfeeding every 2 hours.

Yesterday morning, Malaya met Father Sun and seemed to like it. Daddy would've taken pictures, but had fallen asleep at dawn and couldn't get up. Sleepless baby nights are heeeere.

Most of the day, he slept soundly. My milk came in and gave me the melons of my girlhood dreams. But Malaya barely cared for them when I tried to feed him every two hours like the doctor said. I still managed to feed him, but not as frequently as the previous day. Also, he passed some brown stools in the morning and stopped pooping since.

A little note about baby poop to the uninitiated: The first baby shit is the black primordial goop of legend. Its texture is like tikoy, it's nearly scentless, but it's almost impossible to clean up. It's shit baby's been keeping inside while inside mother's belly. This is shitception meconium.

Since he got out, he's been passing meconium very frequently until day 3, when his shit was half meconium, half stinky regular shit.

This post is obviously at its end because I've digressed to shit-talking. But I return to my earlier point: he stopped shitting altogether and I'm worried. I read and have been told it's normal for breastfed babies to not poop for days because there's nothing to discard.

Chris and my mom tell me I'm worrying too much, that he's healthy and growing. But I can't help it. I'm suddenly deathly afraid he might be taken away from me. A healthy good-looking baby seems too good to be true.

This morning, baby proved himself worthy of Kronar. He kicked his umbilical cord off with a resounding pop, cried a bit, and then resumed with life.

Me: OPEN WOUND!!! BLOOD!!! WTF!!! HE'S GONNA DIE!!!
Lola: Relax, your own cord stump was worse than that when it was healing.
Daddy: My baby is badass. How many of us get to say they cut their own umbilical cord?

The wound is healing nicely, the bellybutton folding into itself. Baby's been easier to handle since then, and chill to boot. I love how this kid is proving my worries wrong. :3