Day One Postpartum: Cry-Laughing Through the Chaos

MiriamLeave a comment

My milk came in. So did the tears. And possibly a ghost.

Day One Postpartum: Cry-Laughing Through the Chaos

My milk came in. So did the tears. And possibly a ghost.

Welcome to Day One Postpartum, otherwise known as The Day the Nurses Leave and You Realize You’re the Nurse Now. I had read about the magical moment when you finally get to bring your baby home — how the air sparkles, the birds chirp, and you and your partner stare lovingly into each other’s eyes as you co-parent in perfect harmony.

Ha. Lies. All lies.

Let me walk you through my first 24 hours as a freshly born mother.

1. Leaving the Hospital: A Slow Descent into Madness

The nurse wheeled me to the car like I was the queen of England… except I was wearing a maxi pad the size of a throw pillow and sitting on an inflatable donut. My baby was buckled so tightly into the car seat he looked like a tiny astronaut about to be launched into space. I wept the whole ride home because hormones, and because I was afraid of potholes.

My husband tried to make light conversation on the drive. I told him gently (read: barked like a feral raccoon) to stop talking.

2. The Arrival Home: Is This Place Always This Loud?

Home used to feel so peaceful. Now, it was suspiciously bright, weirdly dusty, and everything smelled like breast pads and fear. The baby, sweet angel that he is, immediately pooped through his onesie and onto me. We hadn’t even made it past the living room.

I tried to breastfeed. He latched! Then unlatched! Then latched again! Then… bit me with gums I swear were forged in hell. I screamed, he screamed, my nipples retracted into another dimension.

3. The Emotional Rollercoaster: Cry Me a Milk River

  • 6:42 PM – I cried because I was so happy.
  • 6:47 PM – I cried because I was so tired.
  • 6:51 PM – I cried because I spilled my water and couldn’t reach it.
  • 6:53 PM – I laughed at how ridiculous I was.
  • 6:54 PM – I cried again because what even is me anymore?

The emotional range of a Shakespearean actress — but in mesh underwear and with leaky boobs.

4. Partner Check-In: Can He Read My Mind Yet?

Bless his soul, my partner offered to “take a shift,” not realizing babies don’t work in shifts. I asked him to grab the diaper cream and he brought me hemorrhoid ointment. I said “thanks” in a tone that could curdle milk.

We argued about how to swaddle. The baby cried. I cried. He Googled “how to not make wife cry.” Google did not help him.

5. My Body: Who Dis?

Every part of my body felt like it had just returned from battle. My belly was soft and squishy, my boobs had become sentient and were threatening to secede, and I was convinced my pelvic floor had packed a suitcase and left in the night.

At one point, I sneezed and apologized to the universe.

6. The Midnight Hour: Where’s My Receipt for This Baby?

At 2:00 AM, the baby woke up screaming. I did everything I could: fed him, burped him, rocked him, whispered inspirational quotes. Nothing worked.

In that moment, I swear I saw my soul leave my body and hover over the bassinet, asking, “Can we tap out now?”

Then suddenly… silence. He fell asleep in my arms. A little gummy mouth hanging open. A sigh so soft it broke me.

Final Thoughts:

Day One postpartum is a beautiful disaster — like a wedding cake dropped in slow motion. It’s raw, painful, funny, maddening, and sweeter than you can explain to anyone who hasn’t been there.

I’ve never laughed and cried so hard in the same day.
I’ve never felt so broken and so whole at the same time.
I’ve never loved anything more — not even my own ability to sleep through the night. RIP.

And tomorrow? We do it again.

With more coffee.
And possibly a diaper on backward.
(Mine, not his.)

To all the new mamas out there on Day One: you’re doing it. You’re not alone. And yes, those are your boobs leaking through your shirt. Own it. 🍼💪💔😂

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