This probably won't seem that bad to other people but it embarasses me, I don't remember seeing my son for the first time. I remember waking in recovery, I remember being wheeled into NICU, I remember seeing my husband by the humicrib... I don't remember seeing my son. I don't remember seeing him 6 hours later either. I remember yelling at a midwife who told me I wasn't allowed out of bed for at least 24 hours after a GA so I wouldn't see DS again until the next day. I told her if she didn't help me up I would pull my lines out and get up myself, I had my hand on the central line on my neck. She got my OB who I begged to let me out of bed and into a wheelchair as I cried that my baby was all alone. He agreed and I remember the immense pain as the morphine drip was turned off so I could go to NICU. But I don't remember going downstairs. I don't remember seeing him until he was 12 hours old, and off CPAP. I've blocked all memory of him on CPAP.
I blame myself for robbing my DD of our last months as just us two because of placenta previa. I hate that visiting me in hospital became part of a normal day for her.
I love my kids more then words can describe but up until we moved into our new house when DS was 3 weeks old, my life was a living hell for the 10 weeks before hand. I cry when I read birth stories, jealousy for the good ones, empathy for the bad ones. I threw a magazine across the room when I came to an article about the importance of the first hour of a babies life. I didn't wake up until DS was 3 hours old.
I feel tremendous guilt that my body failed him