Wow, still reeling from the transition of going from baby in belly to baby out of belly. When I woke in the very early hours of Wednesday morning, one of my first thoughts was how sad I'd be to not be pregnant anymore. Although I was ready - REALLY ready - to give birth and feeling hugely uncomfortable, knowing it was my final few hours of being pregnant was very bittersweet. But right now, I rejoice in the lack of heartburn, I embrace the absence of stabbing pubic bone pain, and I'm giddy knowing that I can climb the stairs and get out of bed to go to the loo without grimacing in agony. My feet are almost normal size again. I rolled on my tummy last night, just because I can (although it felt very weird on my partially-deflated belly and I couldn't sleep like that). I ATE A WHOLE WEDGE OF BRIE. Celebrate good times, c'mon!
Now, the following paragraph shouldn't be read if you're eating nor should it be read by anyone who hasn't given birth or the squeamish. Today, my biggest accomplishment has been achieved: The First Post Partum Poo. Some of you will nod your head sagely in agreement (and some will be saying out loud, "Is this woman blogging about HER OWN POO?!?!"), the first toilet trip after a birth is always the scariest. After I had Jack, no one informed me that a spinal block does exactly that - it cements you up for a good week afterwards. I was so terrified to go to the toilet for fear of my stitches bursting open like that scene in "Empire Strikes Back" when Luke slices open that alien llama thingy to climb inside. After I had Mia, I was nervous because I had a tear and no matter how many times Laura reassured me that it was impossible to do any further damage to the tear, it was still very scary. Also, the pushing brought back some negative flashbacks to the chaos from the birth. This time, I was a pro. A real poop trooper. I went, and it was fine. And there was much rejoicing.
Right, so those of you who left us a paragraph ago, please feel free to rejoin the group. Welcome back! Isla is fabulous, she's got a shock of jet black hair and a look on her face that says "But it was really nice in there. Why did you make me come out?" Jack is wonderful with her, doting on Isla as much as he did with Mia. He gently strokes her head and gives her kisses, and loves to cuddle her. Mia takes somewhat of an interest in her, but I don't think she really knows what to make of her. So far, her interactions with her little sister have involved poking all of her facial features while identifying them (e.g. "Isla's eye. Isla's cheek. Isla's hair.") and picking up every object that belongs to her and asking "What's that?" I think maybe she'll grow on Mia eventually.
I've had no sleep in three nights, so I'm feeling incredibly exhausted and unable to cope well with three little ones. Thankfully Paul has been getting more sleep than I have, and has been absolutely wonderful at taking over a lot of the work, making sure I keep some of my sanity. Until Isla works out that the big yellow thing in the sky means it's time to be awake and the big grey thing in the sky means it's time to sleep, I'm going to have quite a few more sleepless night. And on that note, I better go upstairs and try to shut my eyes for a few minutes before the night shift starts.