A Barrel of Nelsons

Dawn is one of my newer reads. But I got hit by a ton of emotion reading two of her recent posts (I’m only somewhere near a week or two late commenting on them…)

They were about adoption and being at the hospital.

There’s a thread on the forums about hospital experiences too.

Where do I begin with what I’m feeling here? There’s happy memories and sad and oh so much I want to say …

I’ll start with the good. As I’ve said before I love my OB/GYN. Who was totally supportive either way that I went. Much, much, much love.

Also the my labor and delivery nurse was just great. We talked and I babbled under the influence of pain meds and she asked questions but didn’t judge.

So were the maternity nurses after the first day. (We’ll get to that point later.) We found that one of the best ways to act was to talk to me and treat me like any other mother, unless I brought something up.

Also, the hospital had some pretty amazing beef stew. Yum!

Now the not so good… aka the bad

One word. Epistiotomy.

Being kinda forgotten about between the hours of like 3am and 6am. We kept waiting for a nurse to come in, and help us or move us or bring us a bottle. It took way too long, but I’ve always been shy about asking for help and I was tired.

When they came to visit the next day, S and L really wanted to meet The Sweetling without me around. That wasn’t able to happen. But now I’m remembering that I never once held my daughter when they were in the room that day. This is cutting a horrible horrible wound into me.

The chicken noodley thing that I got for dinner one night. Bad choice. And also, I was discharged the day before they served a ribeye steak dinner.

The ugly. aka some very large amounts of anger.

There are three people who unfortunately (or not) bear a very, very heavy brunt of my anger.

1. The first nurse I had. The one who talked down to me, was cryptic to boot and made me feel all around incompetent. Especially because she did these things while S and L were visiting. So not only did she make me feel shitty about myself as a mother she did it front of all Jeff’s parents and my daughter’s potential aparents.

2. The hospital social worker. Who met with me (and me alone, it wasn’t important for her to talk to Jeff) for maybe 15 minute (half an hour max), handed me a booklet of Social Services resources, and figuratively patted me on the head and told me what a good thing I was doing. So much anger and rage and …

3. The lawyer who didn’t recognize my daughter’s birthname and who didn’t think it was important to double check our decision (like she did with any other birthmom) because it was a family adoption.

4. Myself. I beat myself up so often for not talking louder. Not speaking more. For cowering and being frightened and alone so often.

There is anger at Jeff who had to work which left me alone (not his fault and I’m really working on forgiving that) and anger at things members of his family said which came out as coercive but may or may not have been meant that way. But forgiveness for them is easier. They were dually invested. I deal with them almost regularly and I can find and separate their actions then from who they are. Yes there is still anger and still a wish that maybe they might atone some way for their part in my pain, but I’m working on coming to terms with it on my own. They’re good people the Nelsons (of all forms and functions).

Recently:

• Musings at 2.5
• Closet of Imagination: A Cupboard Full of Dreams
• Tonight’s Episode of House…
• The Day Snuck Up On Me
• Going Away For A Few Days
• Hurricane Season
• AHHHHHH! (A Post From Library Land)
• A Day To Feel Mortal
• Happy Birthday Wishes and Countdowns
• A Ball of String, I Tell You!