At 8 days old we moved upstairs. The Ginge was in a crib instead of an isolette. And looked tiny! He now had to share a nurse with 2 other babies, which was a bit nerve wracking. But she was so responsive and calm and knowledgeable and I liked her instantly.
A brief interlude that’s all me me me now. I had taken a shower the morning before and realized my incision was not just bleeding, but really bleeding. I got all in a panic and Jon drove me in to Boston back to the Brigham. (We had been home for 3 days. I don’t talk much about those three days as it traumatized me to come home without my baby. The house was full of baby things. Silent and unused. It felt ominous and wrong.) At the Brigham the drs has a quick poke and prod and decided I needed emergency surgery for a massive hematoma. It was like a repeat performance of the c section: spinal, open me up, empty me out, only this time they didn’t sew me back up this time. Instead they left a 10cm by 4cm by 4cm hole, packed with wet gauze. Apparently it would have to heal from the inside out. Nightmare. I was readmitted for 5 days so at least I could walk/push the wheelchair over to Children’s with Jon. The wound needed repacking every 8hrs. It hurt.
Anyway, back to the Ginge. He had a swallow study on that first day up in 10 East and to everyone’s delight, he passed!
This meant all that gorgeous fresh milk I’d been devotedly pumping and freezing every 3 hours could be used finally! His first feed was a meager 15mls and he sucked it down in a few seconds, then looked up at me as if to say “where’s the rest?!”
The Ginger Warrior 