// This post was written February 15, 2019 //
> continued from the post on February 2nd:
Jan 30: Someone woke me up, I’m assuming it was my main nurse. What I thought was a second later, Jim kissed me on my forehead. I asked him later if he was there when they woke me up and apparently he wasn’t, so I must have had a few minutes to myself there. Anyway. Jim walked down to the end of my bed and started to massage my feet. I kept asking him questions and apparently I had asked every single question like 3-4 times each. Hahaha, it must be so much fun to see someone wake up from anesthesia. A nurse came in and asked how I was feeling. I felt pretty good but I told her I was really hungry. She asked me if I wanted some toast and something to drink. I could basically choose whatever kind of beverage I wanted, but I thought that maybe my blood sugar level should go up a bit now after no food and being put to sleep, so I asked for regular ginger ale. A little bit later she came back in with a tray. She helped me sit up and to adjust the heating tube or whatever it was that was wrapped around my belly (I wouldn’t mind sleeping with that all the time it felt amazing) and took the needle out of my arm. I put some butter and jam on the toast and took a bite. I swear that this was the best meal I’ve ever had. That plain boring toast tasted like the most exclusive meal ever existed. Absolutely delicious.
I finished my amazing meal and my main nurse came in and asked me to stand up for her. She helped me out of bed and then had me prove to her that I could stand on my own. I felt great. I then noticed blood in bed and that I was wearing the most sexiest cotton underwear of all time. They made me feel 90 years old on my death bed. I can only imagine how women feel after actually giving birth. The nurse took the rest of the IV stuff off my arm and told Jim to go get our car and drive it up to the main entrance and that someone will come and pick me up in a wheelchair and meet him outside. She left and I told Jim to stay with me til I had got dressed. I walked into the bathroom to wash my hands and face. Then I took my gown off and noticed that I had over bled my pad and sexy underwear. I didn’t see any other pads in the room and the one I had actually brought myself (just in case) was left in the car for some reason. I didn’t feel like calling the nurse back so I just put my own underwear on top of everything and then put my sweatpants on. I grabbed some paper tissues from the bathroom and put in a pocket.
Jim left and I sat on the bed forever fully dressed until some young guy came. We said hi and then didn’t speak to each other. He rolled me down the long hallway and once more I felt like I was a really sick patient. When we rolled out to the waiting area, that was now completely full of people, I felt very awkward. I realized that it said “University of dance” on my sweatpants and it just felt strange. Dancers don’t get sick, right. Why was I there? Why couldn’t I walk on my own and dance around in the hallways? We took the elevator down, I called Jim and asked where he was, I was rolled out to the car. The guy and I now said goodbye and then I got into the car. I put all the tissues under my butt so that there wouldn’t be any chance of a bloody leather seat when we came home.
Back at home I just stayed on the couch all day. I had so much energy, I felt absolutely amazing so I wanted to be up and running and get a bunch of shit done in the apartment, but, I forced myself to relax on the couch. So boring! I watched all the new released Kimmy Schmidt episodes and solved lots of sudokus. I got up a few times to just walk around in the apartment, cause it said in my papers that I should.
It was strange to look at my pregnant belly that I knew had no baby in it anymore
All day after the surgery, I was in a pretty good mood. I felt fine. I knew my baby was gone but it was ok. Saying goodbye to Wiggly before maybe made it easier to deal with, I don’t know. The next morning I opened instagram on my phone. The first post was my friend announcing her pregnancy with an ultrasound picture of their 12 week old baby. Second post was of another woman halfway through her pregnancy and third post was an ad for some baby thing. I closed the app and for some reason went to facebook which I rarely do. First post was a friend posting the news of their newborn baby. Second post was a picture of a friends children. Third post was a sponsored ad for baby stuff. I deleted the app. A few days later I uninstalled instagram as well. I just felt “it should have been me posting baby news”. Of course I was happy for everyone else and their happy stories, but I could not handle it then. I decided that I needed to take a break from social media and internet over all.
I spent a few more days mostly on the couch. I wanted my body to really heal. On Thursday the day after surgery I went for a long walk by myself. This happened to be the coldest day of the year. My phone said -10°c, feels like -23°c. With four layers of clothes I insisted on going out. I walked to the “cute street”. Right in the beginning of that street, I saw so many deers. I could only count 11 but I’m sure there were more. And we were close to each other, I could see specific details in their faces. They were just grazing in peoples front- and backyards. It was so powerful and exactly what I needed that day. It was a very nice walk, but I could feel my hips giving up on my way home. Not sure if it was due to the cold or that the walk was too long. They opened my hips during the surgery so it makes sense that they were sensitive. This made me taking it extra slow and easy for a few more days. It’s stupid to rush things.
The questions I had asked Jim while I was waking up from anesthesia, I asked them again later when we were home. “Did you talk to the doctor?” He did, and she told him that the baby hadn’t developed like it should. Things weren’t in the right places and stuff. Two days after the surgery I woke up really early thinking about Wiggly. Suddenly I felt more connection to the baby now when it was no longer inside me. Weird. Maybe his soul was there with me? And then I made up a story about Wiggly. I like to think that he wanted to be the next Picasso. He wanted to show us how creative he could be with himself as the piece of art (I say he because I’ve had a feeling that it’s a boy, we’ll find out hopefully on our next appointment if it was a boy or a girl). It is very weird to make up this kind of story, but it helps me understand the whole thing more I think. With no connection to it while I was pregnant I didn’t feel like I took the whole thing serious enough. So by hearing about his (or her) body I could suddenly picture it and be more connected and through that move on.