The morning after......

Smallest woke at about 5am which is pretty good for him. I'm not feeling at all like I've just had an operation, so we all go downstairs and I gingerly sit on my favorite cozy armchair and feed him. 

Not only is breastfeeding good for the child, but it is also good for the mother. Something normal - a nice warm cuddle with my son is just what is in order. 

Although I feel fine, I take my morning dose of painkillers - there's no point being a hero, and the anti inflammatories are, I think, a must. The Breast care nurse has told me that I could swell quite badly if I do too much, something I am very anxious to avoid. Something called a "Seroma" can form - basically a build up of lots of fluid, which might then have to be removed at the doctors via syringe. Ugh. No thank you.

I am frankly shocked at how good I feel - physically speaking. Skepticism/Cynicism pays off once again! 

My husband pops out to work on the farm shortly after making sure I eat some cereal, taking the youngest with him, and whilst watching celebrity masterchef and after checking in with the DW Mafia, a nap was most definitely in order.

From recollection, I napped most of the morning, which is heaven - it is something I never get to do.

When my husband next comes in I take a shower and we check the wound together - all fine, no swelling, bruising or leaking. Good. 

I'm quite an active person and am desperate to go for a walk, so with a bit of help getting my boots on I do actually manage to go for a small stroll. A relief for the body and soul.

Other than calling round various family and friends to let them know I'm okay, that is about all there is to say about my first day at home, other than crushing tiredness is a bit of an issue which is most likely a hangover from the GA and my 4 week "nesting" spree.

The biggest child arrives home at about 3pm, and I am relieved to find out that our lovely friend, who has had her for the last 2 days, has told her that I have had an operation, so she has to be very gentle and not hug me too hard.

The most exciting and intruiging thing for said child is the fact that I have a plaster over where the cannula went in.

Just as I think I have avoided an interrogation, in she goes. I have been dreading this.

"Mummy, where have you been, why did you have an injection, what's wrong with your chest?"

Bugger.

So, I try out our pre-planned "party line".

"Mummy had a poorly boob, so the clever doctors did an operation and took it off".

I was not prepared for a simple "Okay", but I shall accept it for how. I have no doubt that there will be more questions, particularly if I am seen in the shower/getting changed. As anyone who has children knows, there is no such thing as privacy any more.

The rest of the day passes fairly uneventfully. An early night is in order. I don't recall the last time I was this tired - I can't even blame the children this time!