Motherhood, Meltdowns and Midwives
It was my second day in the hospital since Erin's birth and things were progressing well - she was sleeping and feeding and expelling bodily fluids at an encouraging rate. I was introduced to a horde of helpful medical professionals - lactation consultants, midwives, aids, scores of trainee doctors, nurses and baby doctors (that's a thing, apparently) They poked and prodded; they hmm'd and haa'd; they took notes, and rolled Erin's hips, and flashed lights in her eyes, and checked my stitches, and took my bloods and enquired after my toilet habits. The parents came in, eyes brimming, mouths overflowing with unrequested advice ("MINDTHEHEAD!!"), praising my hard work and exclaiming over the uncanny likeness the child shared with her father. Finally, the lights dimmed in the ward and quietness descended. The other two mothers were bottle-feeding; I'd opted for breast. That meant that Erin woke more frequently, and I positioned her close to t