PP.

Congratulations! Everyone says it as you’re whisked out of the delivery room, up to the recovery floor. You try to give somewhat of a smile as all the sweet eyes of the nurses and people you pass offer theirs. 
What an experience you just had. Never mind how your child came. Cesarean, vaginal, natural, drugged.. it’s all birth, and it can all be traumatic. 
They get you settled into your room and you put your baby’s skin to yours and breathe her in. You feel the whimpers start to come, and your body shakes as you remember what you just went through. Deep breaths.
Housekeeping comes to take your tray you barely picked off of, after not eating for a full 36hrs. You’re not hungry. You’re sore and exhausted and you just want to sleep. 
Closing your eyes now all you can see is your delivery all over again. Silent tears fall and you grimace at the gore you’re witnessing behind your eyelids. How did you just do that? Sleep overrules, and you drift off...


Discharge time. Everyone is “okay” and you head home. Finally sinking into your comfy bed and able to sleep wrapped in your favorite blanket. Baby is close to your chest and you enjoy the heaviness of her there.
24hrs later, you’re expected to get out of bed and go to the pediatrician with your baby. You muster the strength to rise in your soreness and shower. Maybe you’ll feel more human. You contemplate not going, but remember how fast they are to alert CPS of a missed appointment of this sort. You sigh. You decide to wear slippers. Baby goes into her sleeper and you’re off.


Every bump in the road is like hell to your body. Jerking you this way and that as you tense so it won’t hurt as bad.
Arrival at the doctor is met with a sparkling smile and a load of paperwork. You balance your fussy baby in one arm and manage to fill it all out. She’s hungry and you want your bed back now. Your headache comes again and you lean against the wall and close your eyes for a second. Everything hurts... 
They call the baby’s name and you’re put in room 3. After they weigh and measure and make the baby mad, you’re ushered to sit in a hard, plastic chair and wait for the pediatrician. Your stitches hurt. No matter which way you shuffle, the burning doesn’t leave.
You adjust your bra and cloth pads, and your cracked and bleeding nipples stick to the fabric. She has a lip tie. Breastfeeding never comes easy for you. You want to cry as she start to suck on her hands. She’s hungry. How do you feed her here with all the work you have to do to get her to latch properly? 
You manage. Pretty much the same way you’ve been ‘managing’ all day. 
The pediatrician comes in, and of course! the baby is perfect. Nothing out of the ordinary. You knew that. You get up to dress the baby and the pain of standing is almost too much. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and realize your hair is an absolute mess, and you’re so pail. Dizzy too. Bed sounds nice. They schedule another appointment for two weeks later and wave bye. You remember you have to schedule your postpartum check with you midwife too. Sigh.


Back home, snuggled with your bug, your mind is whirling with thoughts and emotions. Sifting through your experience in labor and trying to figure out why so much is expected out of a fresh mommy, who just brought a life into the world. No celebration for her. Puppies usually aren’t legally allowed to leave their moms until they’re eight weeks old. If you work, you’d only have five and a half weeks left with your baby full-time. Six weeks. That’s it. No time for healing. Of any sort. How are we NOT supposed to get depressed?
A lot of us have support. MOST of us don’t.
We need to change.
This needs a revamp....


Congratulations! Everyone says it as you’re whisked out of the delivery room, up to the recovery floor. You try to give somewhat of a smile as all the sweet eyes of the nurses and people you pass offer theirs.
They get you settled into your room and you put your baby’s skin to yours and breathe her in. You feel the whimpers start to come, and your body shakes as you remember what you just went through. Deep breaths.


Yeah, deep breaths, mama... so much is expected of you.
T-24hrs.....