July 30 Cont’d…
6:30pm
Once we entered the nursery we needed Special Nursery Policies and Procedures/ Outerwear Training 101. First you scrubbed your hands till they hurt (were we going to perform surgery, ya think?). Then you donned a one size fits all Johnny Jacket, a shower cap affair and mask so all your face was covered, except your eyes and a fancy pair of slip on booties to slide over your slippers or shoes, again, one size fits all.
Seems I was ready to launch…, I felt like an astronaut and moved just as clumsily… as if I was in a time capsule, circling the earth at break neck speed. Ok, good I’m ready for you – they sit me down and bring you out – you are sucking on your 2 middle fingers of your right hand – OMG – we used to see you do that on the ultrasound. The Johnny Jacket is on backwards – duh, I can’t breast feed you… never mind, you have lost 10oz. in the last couple of days (pretty standard for babies to lose weight after they are born) so Dr. D. has ordered formula, along with you being breast fed.
Sometime during the night my IV was pulled – the following morning and thereafter, I got to the nursery on my own steam. Wheel chairs are for those who need them. Don’t worry, I won’t file a law suit if I collapse halfway down the hall.
August 1
Dr. D. is lollygaggling, sitting on the end of my bed regaling me with stories of babies born to mothers in Ireland wherein the mother took a half hour break (to eat a lunch and pass the afterbirth?) then went right back to picking potatoes. All those Moms in Waiting and New Moms were so jealous that I had what seemed like a friendship with my doctor but it was mainly because of living in the trenches with him last summer when your Dad was so sick. Still it comes with a price. He flips me the bird as often as he would to those he is close to in life.
I interrupted his tale to ask, “Uh, Dr. D., I having been wondering – should we get Wonder Boy circumcised?” He jumps off my bed in a miff, I suspect since he hadn’t finished his potato picking story and archly reply, “All along I thought you were Scottish”, slaps his hand on his forehead and continued – “but of course, you are related through King David who even today lives in Queen Elizabeth !!’s bloodlines”. Those Catholic Irish, always got to shoot a salvo at our Royal Family. “No, no, I just read something, it is more hygienic, causes less problems later in life, you know”, I trailed off. He walked out the door, flipping me that bird, “Give your head a shake. Your not Jewish, Quite Contrary. It is an archaic procedure. I am not putting Wonder Baby through that”, as he stomped down the hall. Dam, maybe I should have had a Jewish doctor…………oh, but I do – your pediatrician. Now that specialist sails through like a gale in a blizzard… all business… no camaraderie… today or any day.