I was pretty out of it immediately following Peanut's birth. They did a small episiotomy out of precaution since both Peanut and I had been in labor so long; the OBs putting me back to rights told me all of the stitches were external and I could have probably gotten away with no cut at all. You know I was high as hell because I was all "Cool, slice up my vag, I don't mind."
Mon Amour went to the nursery and to see the multitude of peeps in the waiting room while they kept me for observation. I passed out not long after that.
I woke up about two hours later, slightly chilly and with very little feeling in my legs still. And I was still pretty epidural stoned. I started reenacting the scene from Kill Bill where The Bride is laying in the back seat of the Pussy Wagon telling her big toe to move.
Eventually the new shift came to check on me and they finally brought me downstairs to my room where a lot of people were still waiting for my grand entrance.
Man, having to speak English and Italian epidural stoned and post very very long labor was a trip into itself. I'm still not sure if I was slurring my words or not.
Shortly after hauling my high ass from the wheelchair to the bed, I started to feel really cold. Really really cold. I had my mom get the extra wool blanket from the closet but it still didn't help. I started shaking like an epileptic in the throes of a mild seizure. They called I the doc on duty, who reassured us this was entirely normal, due to a massive surge of hormones post labor. It would pass in a bit and it might reoccur later on. Whee.
Everyone finally left and I shivered myself back to (somewhat) normal under my blanket and passed out again after drinking a small tanker's worth of water.
I woke up later drenched in sweat, sheets and nightgown soaked. This too was due to hormones, excaberated by my fever and the drugs they gave me to counter it. I gingerly hauled myself to the bathroom, with my roommate admonishing me to leave the door unlocked just in case. I very carefully and slowly sponged myself off and peed, then made my way back to bed, where I peered at the pics of Peanut snapped by my mom and Mon Amour; I wouldn't get to see her until the morning, assuming my fever had gone by then. With the aide of the leftover epidural in my system, I managed to keep the anxiety at bay.
I also was woken up and admonished for not telling the doc who released me to come back downstairs that I had a fever in labor. It is probably for the best that I still had problems figuring out A) which language I needed to reply in and B) how my tongue worked, because a lucid response on my part probably wouldn't have been very nice...they gave me another injection of antibiotics to go with the preaching.
At some point I ate my dinner tray left earlier. if you ever want hospital food to taste like the ambrosia of Olympus, be in medically defined labor for over 14 hours. Cold meatloaf, a roll and an orange never tasted so good...I could have downed the rest of the tray but I was trying not to wake up my roommate's baby boy with sawing open the plastic covered plates and felt it prudent not to overdo things lest I bring on an episode of puking.
I also chugged water that night like a coke fiend in Bolivia. Downing over 3 liters of water meant I also peed like a racehorse, each time I got out of bed more painful than the next. It wasn't localized where the stitches were, though, but at my tailbone. I remembered a popping sensation while pushing, like cracking your back or knuckles. Some googling (if only to figure out the word for tailbone in Italian) and a call to the on duty doc determined that I probably severely bruised or even broke my tailbone while pushing. Other than waiting for it to heal, there's not much you can do for a busted butt bone. As for pain management, Breastfeeding means that you get nothing stronger than aspirin.