We BOTH left in diapers.

Holy sh!t we are parents. We are now responsible for another person. A tiny terrorist who will basically hold us hostage for the rest of our lives. Joel and I are forever linked by blood now. He can't get rid of me now. After a grueling five week pregnancy and 29 hours of labor, we did it. Mostly me, but Joel was there too. The epidural that I'd fallen in love with wore off and it was time to move us to recovery. All I wanted was a bacon cheeseburger and to sleep for hours in my own bed. I wouldn't get that bacon cheeseburger until the next day and even though I'm back in my own bed, still to this day, I haven't slept for "hours". During the transition into our new room, Joel would not let go of Jordan. He even helped support her body while I breastfed her because I was shaking so bad from the pain and the epidural wearing off, I could barely hold her. He carried her to our recovery room in his arms and didn't want to ever put her down. He is still equally smitten with her to this day. Once we move to the recovery suite, its time to get down to business. I'm in so much pain and have no idea how to care for myself. We meet my favorite nurse. This woman singlehandedly saved my vagina. I will never forget you, Chandra.

Chandra gave me a couple pain pills that I initially didn't want to take. She read my chart and told me to trust her and take the pills. Joel agreed with her and told me it was time for me to stop being stubborn and to just take the damn pills. I am SO glad I listened. I can't imagine what the pain would have been like if I hadn't taken them, because it still hurt pretty damn bad with them. My dear Chandra introduced me to a "vagicare system" that would carry me through the entire healing process. She even managed to snag me a ton of extra supplies for me to take home. First step, liberally apply EpiFoam to three overlapping Tucks pads. Second, try not to cry as you apply that to your recently reconstructed lady parts. She used the words "slap them up there", but I installed them much more delicately. Thirdly, install a giant pad that goes from belly button to the top of your butt crack, followed by an ice pack about half that size. Lastly, put on the ever flattering disposable mesh undies to hold the various pieces of equipment in place. Repeat these steps every two hours and after every trip to the bathroom. I cried every time. I feared the bathroom.

I thought finally I could rest, maybe even take a nap. NOPE. Between the team of nurses coming in to check my vitals every few hours and the team of nurses coming in to run tests and check on Jordan every couple hours, I didn't get to sleep for more than an hour at a time. On top of that, the first real food I had was a hospital grade crap lunch including the worst turkey sandwich I'd ever had in my entire life, a granola bar, an apple and a bag of plain chips. I was tired, starving, in so much pain, cranky and miserable. I know poor Joel was feeling the same way. Except he had cookies, and his genitalia was intact.

Once again, Joel stepped up to the plate and throughout the next two days, he was incredible. I told him to go home and shower and get some sleep but he refused and insisted on camping out in the recliner next to my bed and Jordan's container. After we were settled in our room I asked Joel to change her diaper. Then he reminded me he had no idea how to do that. After a lot of laughs and Joel fumbling around, I successfully taught him how to change a diaper. He changed damn near every single one after that, meconium and all. He helped me out of bed and to the bathroom every single time. He helped me nurse Jordan at all hours of the night. He was my cheerleader. He also got me real food. I had my first experience with Potbelly Sandwiches during that hospital stay. He woke up every single time a doctor came in to check on me or Jordan. Watching him transform from just Joel to Jordan's Father in just 24 hours was an incredible sight to see. Joel was nothing short of incredible, to both of his girls.

Those two days and two nights were a blur. Between breastfeeding every two hours, the constant flow of Doctors, Nurses and Visitors, Joel and I were already exhausted and our parenting journey hadn't even really started yet. We are so f**ked already. In the blink of an eye, it was Sunday, August 6th. Discharge day for both of us. August 6th was also my 33rd birthday, one I'll never forget. Who needs presents or a party? I would be bringing home the greatest gift of all, our Daughter. 

But only if I pooped first. Yes you read that right. I needed to prove I could poop. The hospital will not let you leave until you take the most painful sh!t of your life. Thankfully, before my Mom left the hospital the day Jordan was born, she gave me the best advice she had ever given. LIE. Lie and tell the nurse that you pooped so you can go home. Thank you Mom. A million times over, thank you. Because that dreadful poop didn't come until the following Wednesday, where I experienced pain worse than labor. I'm sure you are looking forward to reading that blog later.

Jordan and I both left the hospital that day wearing a diaper. Joel did the typical Dad thing and fumbled around with the car seat doing some last minute strap adjustments. He then loaded both his girls into the car, and for the first time since she was born, the three of us were alone. Joel said it was the most terrifying drive of his entire life.

OH SH!T. Now what?