Updated: Feb. 23, 2016
Originally Published: Oct. 22, 2011
Hospitals have never been my favorite place, a sentiment that was solidified after the birth of my first child. Sixteen long hours of labor ended with an emergency c-section, subpar cafeteria food that could have been mistaken for school lunches, and a nurse who left me with a tiny infant while I felt utterly lost. The shower was a nightmare with controlled temperature settings that made it impossible to enjoy a hot wash. After four days of what I can only describe as hospital hell, I vowed to keep my distance from hospitals in the future.
Fast forward two years, and I was expecting baby number two. This was a pregnancy that doctors said was medically improbable, which added layers of stress to an already high-risk situation. The memories of my first hospital experience haunted me, but by the time I reached eight months, I found myself counting down the days until my scheduled c-section. The thought of a few days away from my wild toddler felt like a dream, even with the knowledge that the food would be less than gourmet and the help limited.
When the big day arrived, everything was smooth and well-organized. From valet parking to registration, and even the epidural process for the surgery, it was a completely different experience from before. Within just 20 minutes of her arrival, I was nursing my new baby girl. That evening, I savored a delicious hot meal, a welcomed change from my previous experience. Nurses were attentive, checking in regularly, and I was finally able to enjoy a steaming shower that felt like sheer luxury.
Wait a minute—this didn’t feel like a hospital stay; it felt more like a vacation! By day three, the hospital staff suggested I could go home, and I found myself tearfully protesting to the doctor. Unsure how to handle my emotional response, he called in my nurse for support. After she calmed me down, I expressed my desire to stay a bit longer. “But…but… I want to stay! I don’t want to go home! My vacation isn’t over yet!” I told her. Before her shift ended, she surprised me with delightful hot chocolate and instructed me to catch up on sleep. I took her advice, downed a Percocet, sipped my drink, watched TV in blissful solitude, and slept for a full nine hours. It was pure bliss!
The next morning, I faced the reality of packing up and heading home. Suddenly, I was back in the chaos of life with no staff at my beck and call—no chef preparing meals, no night nurse to help, and the TV was stuck on a loop of cartoons. I quickly realized my little vacation was over, and I was once again navigating the challenges of motherhood, complete with a toddler who needed my attention.
A year has passed since the birth of my second child, and every day, I find myself daydreaming about the luxurious stay I enjoyed in the hospital. Until I strike it rich and can recreate that experience, I will fondly remember those four days as my ultimate “vacation” from reality. Motherhood, it seems, can sometimes feel like a break from the everyday grind.
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