Press The Buzzer

After a long and difficult labour, the moment Sadie was placed in my arms, I knew I wanted to give it a go, although I had no confidence in the physicality of getting started. I was overjoyed, elated, on cloud nine but unfortunately very weak and waiting a blood transfusion approval after losing over a litre of blood. As soon as it was time to feed Sadie, I didn’t know what else to do but press the buzzer for help. I stayed three nights in hospital, and openly admit to pressing the buzzer every single time I needed to feed! Sometimes I felt a little embarrassed, but not afraid to say I felt out of my depth. I was unsure on how to comfortably position Sadie, as she was so delicate. I could not get comfortable, as I was strapped to a cannula for the blood transfusion preparation. In addition to this, I found sitting upright was too painful from my episiotomy. I was still lying on the bed in the emergency room, where I had given birth. My heart rate had been beating over 150bpm, so I was being monitored closely, before I could be discharged to the recovery unit. Although my skin was grey from being so weak, on the inside my heart was pumping with adrenalin.

The head nurse, Anne was by my side during and after delivery. Anne had a vivacious personality, and mentally encouraged me to push Sadie out naturally, although the consultant was stood next to me just in case an emergancy c section was neccecary. I nearly squeezed his hand off when I was ready to push Sadie out! Anne saw my struggle, and said “just put the baby to the breast and let her find her food.”After suggesting I lie down on my side to help ease the pain on my body, she effortlessly placed Sadie next to me, and that was that. This moment after Anne positioned Sadie correctly made all my pain disappear…. well not literally, but yes in that split second it really did. That warm and gushy rush of love made me feel so happy, and knew we would find our way together. Needless to be said, I still found comfort in pressing the buzzer regardless, so that is what I continued to do during my three days in hospital.

My question each time a nurse came to assist was always “is she on”, and the nurse pointed out her little jaw moving up and down. There are no measuring lines on your boobs to show you how many ounces she was drinking. I had to look for other ways to see if she was satisfied from my milk, such as the expression on her face, wet nappies and if she was content. I felt excited but at the same time a slight overwhelming sense of responsibility. Hormones aside, I still knew in my heart that my feeding journey had only just begun, and to just go with it.


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