I feel like I should preface everything I write about pregnancy/ birth/ life with a newborn with “my experience” so everyone understands I’m not suggesting this is How Life Is For Everyone, but rather am just trying to get my experience out there because I think there’s value to knowing everyone has different ones. Moving on.
So, c-section recovery. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad, except that five weeks later I still have some pain, which is disappointing.
First, the questions I would have asked, answered:
- Yes, I still bled for multiple weeks.
- No, my vajayjay didn’t have to “recover,” I guess because I never dilated and thus never attempted a v*ginal delivery.
- No, I didn’t need to sit on a pillow but yes, I needed to hold one for dear life if I sneezed or coughed.
- Yes, I was still able to breastfeed and hold my son, but after about a week he learned how to kick, kick, kick so we had to adjust because his little feet were right on my incision.
- Yes, I took meds. I made the mistake of skipping a few doses in the first week while I was still in the hospital because I was feeling okay, then woke up from a nap in so much pain I was shivering uncontrollably. The baby chose that moment to start screaming for food and my husband was left to handle things while calling for help from a nurse. Oh, THAT’s why you have to stay in the hospital for a few days after a c-section! I stayed on a Percocet schedule for about ten days with decreasing frequency, on an ibuprofen schedule for another week, and now only take either if I have pain.
Within a day, I was up and walking, albeit slowly. Within a week, I was doing everything I normally would except moving furniture and climbing stairs (no laundry chores for me!).
Since then, though, I’ve hit a plateau. My incision still aches most of the time and hurts like hell sometimes. Today, for instance, I’m medicated and sitting very still on the couch because I have a sharp pain in my lower left abdomen, a pain that’s come and gone often over the past few weeks. I suspect it’s an indication that I’ve overdone the “being normal” thing, which is a bummer, but hey, what am I gonna do?
Oh, and I should mention the coolest thing: I got to watch it courtesy of an indulgent surgeon, my talking up my time spent in OR’s, and a mirror. It was AWESOME! (Though I should have asked my husband if he wanted to watch, too. He got to by default and it kind of freaked him out.) I think getting to see the procedure kept me from freaking out at all, though I couldn’t avoid the uncontrollable shivering or puking, which I blame on them shoving my uterus back in and rearranging my internal organs.