Why am I so sore...

As I settled into my room for the night, I realized that I was sore. I knew that I would hurt in the obvious places but I wasn't expecting to feel like I had worked out for the first time in a year. My muscles hurt. My face felt like I had been beaten. My stitches hurt more than I could have imagined.

I guess it makes sense that pushing a baby out would make your muscles sore. You are tensed and straining with every ounce of energy you have. And then you are straining and pushing with energy that you don't have. Giving birth was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. At first I had a lot of energy to push but then after a couple of minutes, I was running on pure adrenaline. If I wasn't, the baby would still be in. But anyway, I felt like I had run a marathon.

My face was as puffy as the baby's when he was born. The straining of my face during the pushing did a number on me. My eyes were bloodshot and I had dark circles under my eyes. I felt like I had gotten into a fight.

And the stitches. Oh why didn't anyone tell me that the stitches would hurt more than the labor and the delivery? I had to keep calling for ice packs because that was the only thing that gave me any relief. It hurt immensely to move my position in the bed. And getting up to go to the bathroom was torture. And the doctors and nurses had to keep checking on the stitches. Maybe it would be less painful the next day. I wasn't so certain of that.

And my baby wasn't with me. He was in the nursery. I could have kept him in the room with me but I was in so much pain that I thought the nurses would be able to take care of him more easily. And then I felt guilty. But I knew he was in good hands and I needed to get some sleep.

Getting sleep was out of the question too. I must have been woken up in the middle of the night four or five times so I could get weighed, my blood pressure taken, my stitches looked at, my temperature taken. And then I couldn't really sleep anyway.

I couldn't wait for it to be morning so I could get my son. My son. It was still strange to think in terms of me having a son. Surreal but magical.