I will not be having visitors at the hospital when I give birth this time around. If I need to have my 6 ft 4 in father stand at the door of my room with a list of people who can come in and have him turn away everyone else, I will do it. And I know he will too. Probably with my brother wanting some involvement. And maybe my dog too.
If there was one OVERWHELMINGLY LARGE lesson I learned when I brought Jackson into this world, it was not to have guests while you’re at the hospital. Of course I happened to learn this lesson the hard way.
No matter which way you give birth, whether you blast that baby out of your “door” or it comes out of the “window,” you’re not going to be feeling very well afterwards. You will be sore and exhausted and emotional beyond your wildest
nightmares dreams. You are not going to feel like making chit-chat with whomever’s aunt drove in just to see the baby fresh out of the womb.
You’re not going to be interested in retelling when your water broke and contractions GOT REAL. At least not yet.
Chance are, you’re going to want to learn who this new little person is. Chances are, you’ll want to be quiet and listen to this wee one’s sounds and nuzzle him/her until you feel like you are breathing the same air. Chance are, you’ll want a moment with your baby and your partner, relishing the first few moments when you are a new family.
But I could be wrong.
I’m just sayin’… this go-round, I’m goina be in lock-down with my child, unless the Navy shows my husband some mercy and brings him home early from deployment, in which case, all doors and windows will be open to welcome him in.
But no one else. The rest of y’all can wait til we are at home. It’s not you, it’s me. No, seriously. It’s me.
Image via flickr