Last prego update: postpartum wrap up

Though the monthly checkups were (relatively) familiar and the birth itself was quite similar to my US experience, the postpartum stay deserves its own post. By nature of being who we are, we had no qualms telling people "no" or asking questions when things seemed a little strange, so we didn't have a negative experience by any means. We just had to keep on our toes for "different" things.

The first difference was actually in the delivery room, where we learned that each item used would be charged to our bill. Thus, nurses are hesitant to change things (like the cover on the delivery bed) unless you ask. For us, Rs 60 ($1.50) for a second or third cover isn't a big deal, but I could see how little charges would add up for some families. Thus, first task on hand was to explain to the nurses that we understood the charging system and they didn't have to ask twice if we were "sure" we wanted something -- at one point, this even included our midwife telling a nurse to put gloves on *both* hands!

We also later learned that the assisting nurses told the midwife they thought something was wrong with the baby at first, because Patrick had so little hair. I also held him for a comparatively long time right after birth, which made them also think something might be wrong since it seemed like I didn't want to let go of him. Thankfully, the midwife explained that many babies don't have any hair for months - and that many mothers like holding the baby right after birth as a reward for hard work.

The real differences came, though, once we got out of the delivery room and into the recovery room. Apparently, most Indian women delivering on the deluxe floor do very little for themselves postpartum. And, by very little, I mean next to nothing. As in, I went to go to the bathroom, and the "daya" (below a nurse) started following me. I had to explain that, really, I could walk to the toilet and handle my business myself. A few hours later, the daya heard the shower running and came rushing in the room -- Greg said it took him quite some effort to explain to her that I was OK, that I would call if I needed help, and that she really shouldn't go and try to help me shower.

(aside: the dayas also didn't speak much English or Telugu - Hindi almost exclusively - so all this is taking place with the very few words we had in common and lots of hand gestures)

The nursing staff was shocked to come into my room at one point and see me breastfeeding by myself. I'm really confused - still - about why this was so shocking, but according to our midwife, many women after delivery just sort of lie in bed and let a mother or mother in law or daya place the baby to the breast and hold it there while feeding. A few have even brought wet nurses to the hospital.

I was surprised later on when the (male) OB doing rounds was coming to check on me, and then postponed his check up because I was breastfeeding. We could never figure out if it was because he didn't want to intrude on "bonding" or if it was because it was considered improper for a man to be present. I'm hoping the former, but I can't quite rule out the later. When he came back, he only asked questions (no exam), so it wasn't as if I needed to move my body which would have disturbed a nursing baby.

In general, most people entering the room didn't say who they were or why they were there - which is more than slightly disconcerting when a nurse just enters and states: "Give me your baby." Needless to say, my reply was: "No. Please tell me who you are, why you need my baby, where you are taking him, and what you plan to do." It turned out to be harmless (getting his heal prick test done), but something like that would never happen in the US! Or, at least, it would be very uncommon. It was also difficult to handle because we never quite knew at first why a person was there - for Patrick? for me? for a routine thing? because they were concerned about something? Again, we got used to stopping the person mid-track and asking name and purpose.

When William was circumcised, the OB took him out of the room for about 15 min and then promptly brought him back in to nurse and calm him down. For Patrick, they brought in the NICU surgeon, used the "operating theatre", and wanted to keep him in the NICU observation unit for two hours. I got a few funny looks when I walked down to the NICU after 30 minutes to nurse him (what was I doing walking? why no wheel chair? why did I want to nurse him after that and not just let someone else take care of him?) - but as this was about 24 hours post-birth, I think the whole hospital staff must have decided that the crazy American mother just liked to do things her own way, so (thankfully) no one denied me entry to the NICU.

I haven't spent much time in NICUs (thankfully) but when we did take the tour of the one at Georgetown, I remember a few comfy chairs for mothers to nurse (or express milk while looking at their babies) and generally room for parents. Here, I was shown to a small side room with a plastic chair for nursing - and I didn't see any parents sitting around.

The food, needless to say, was Indian - and spicy! I actually liked it better than the bland hospital food I had with William. I never ate enough rice to please the nurses - but lunch and dinner each came with two to three cups of rice - very different from my regular diet. As it is expected that a patient will have an attendant with her at all times, two meals always came - which Greg was very thankful for. We had brought some food for him, but with no microwave, the prospect of cold leftovers wasn't too appetizing.

I'm sure I'll think of a few more and add to this later, but that's it for now - it's 9PM, William's asleep, Patrick's been asleep for about an hour, too -- which means I better go to sleep (or, rather, start my sleep installments...)