Abundant Bundles

When is assvice not assvice?
When it's good advice.
Thank you for all your comments & good advice. I will heed all from you wisely women.

During my stay in hospital, I was looked after in the Gyno ward.
There are three things in abundance in the Gyno ward.
1. Nurses.
2. Women.
3. Babies.

NURSES: The nurses were fabulous. Vigilant, caring, supportive. These gals are everywhere. All the time. They hover over your bed at insane hours, scaring the bejesus out of the novice patients. It's amazing how after a few days in their world, you adapt & comply. Instead of awakening at 3.15 am with a dizzy fright at the shadowy figure inches from your bed, your brain learns to accept the night nurse & soon you offer your arm for Blood Pressure checks & you stick out your tongue for temperature checks without even opening your eyes, heck, without even waking up! Nurses work long hours, stressful, often thankless hours & I am glad my childhood dream of becoming a nurse was abandoned when I realised I was a lazy, sleep fiend. Nurses are good people.

WOMEN: All ages, all colours, all clutching at their nether regions. If you are a patient in the Gyno Ward, you can bet your reproductive organs have been tampered with in some form. I shared a room with 3 other ladies. One lovely, one silent & one a complete lunatic. We made a nice team.

BABIES: I had not given a thought to the fact that I would be recovering surrounded by newborns. The first visit I had from Mum & Peter was right after surgery. Though I was clearly off my face, I could see the signs of concern on theirs. "I can't believe they put you in here with all these babies" Mum whispered. They were both a bit worried about my emotional state. I assured them I was fine & I was. I couldn't see or hear a wee bairn for the life of me. The next day I told them that the kids on this ward were incredibly well behaved. I swear I still hadn't even heard a peep from the babies residing just 2 door down. I was starting to think that maybe there were no newborns here after all. My first night off morphine, my senses were alert & sleep didn't come so swiftly. Then I heard them.
All night.
Squeaks, squeals & wails. A chorus of tiny cranky souls. The babies. Where the nurses murdering them I pondered? I buzzed for some drugs & finally silence overcame me. Next day I ventured out of bed. My first turn into the corridor exposed the world beyond my room & I was in the middle of maternity mayhem. I was fascinated. I was bemused. I was staring. Smiling at all the new parents. Parading swaddled cocoons. Tiny, fuzzy heads peeking out from blankets & I felt okay about this! I peered into rooms & sidestepped new mothers as they pushed their babies around on wheeled cribs. There was a miracle at each turn.
Back in my own room with the other layabouts I sat on my bed & watched a young girl shuffle by. She was pushing her tiny, crying baby around. We exchanged glances. I smiled at her & she returned one, although hers was tinged with despair. She looked sore, slow & miserable. Welcome to motherhood I thought. It's a tough gig & I understood her bewilderment. She was probably just as tired & sore as I was but she had both hands full with a noisy baby. Both my hands were free to clutch my tummy & brace for a sneeze. For the first time ever I experienced pregnancy pity. I'd only ever experienced pregnancy envy. I laid back, switched on Oprah & grabbed a Toblerone. I can't wait to be a mother, but in that moment I was happy to just be a lady with no fallopian tubes.