Today I had my first postnatal visit with Lara. I was super happy: this time I got to her without any traffic jams, found a parking space straight away and was actually at her door on time at 2.30 pm. As I stood there, I wasn't sure whether she would even realise I was there. From inside I could hear thumping and the defiant, deafening cries of Max. Max is her three-year-old son. The screaming was accompanied by the baby's crying. Ben was obviously also trying to make himself heard in a shrill and high-pitched voice. I rang the bell. I waited. And apart from the baby's crying, I heard nothing. Fine, I thought, I'll call her and tell her that I'm at her door and would like to make my postnatal visit.
I realised that from now on my schedule would be completely destroyed. She actually heard the phone. Breathless and almost unfriendly, she answered it. When she opened the door for me, I could see how embarrassed she was about the situation. But also how overwhelmed she was. She had been crying. I could see that in her eyes. She had a fever. I recognised that immediately from her glowing face. Lara had to go to bed immediately, was my first thought. But at the moment I didn't know how to do that. First of all, I had to protect myself from the Lego bricks flying around. The living room was a mess. Max had done a great job. The living room floor looked as if a shovel had dumped the entire Amazon toy warehouse. I didn't realise how this mass of toys could be tidied up in this living room.
It didn't matter at the moment. I had to somehow get into this room safely and try to get some peace and quiet.
Lara had the same idea. So she switched on the TV, dragged Max, who was still shouting, in front of it and sat down on the sofa with Ben. Ben was hungry. So he was easy to pacify. Lara's fever, as I could see straight away, came from her chest, which looked like glowing red stones.
Max was quiet now. Instead, the children's channel was ringing in my ears and I tried to concentrate on my work and Lara. She told me about the birth. Ben didn't take long. He was born after two hours of labour. Lara was visibly happy. However, she didn't enjoy the following days on the labour ward as much. "The double room, two crying babies, endless visitors," she said. Good, I can understand that. "And now", she continued, sobbing, "she's sitting here in this chaos, completely tired and exhausted". I could see that myself. I just didn't realise why. So I asked why. Yes, Lara told me, her husband had to work. He gets absolutely no holiday. Besides, she sobbed, he thought she'd had enough time to recover in hospital. My facial expressions almost slipped and I actually wanted to judge this statement. Of course, I realised that I wasn't entitled to do that. And of course I knew that I couldn't make anything better by making such a comment. But Lara's fever demanded rest and protection. Otherwise the milk letdown would turn into a full-blown chest infection. I had to prevent that somehow if this postpartum was to be a good one. That's why I suppressed any comments and preferred to find out who had been looking after Max while Lara was in hospital. Perhaps the necessary help could be found there. Max had the answer ready quicker than his mum. He turned to me and explained with shining eyes that he was with Grandma and Grandad. Great, I thought to myself. So I suggested to Lara that we extend the visit to his grandparents. Max immediately forgot about his children's series and stormed through the living room, unleashing the full arsenal of war cries of a three-year-old. Grandad! Grandad! Grandad! he roared through the living room. My ears were ringing. Lara started crying again. She had an incredibly guilty conscience. She thought she wouldn't be doing Max any favours if she sent him to his grandparents.
Deportation?
I had the impression that there couldn't be anything better for Max. The toys being thrown around show that they don't make him happy at all. But I could well understand the guilty conscience. I've experienced that with every mum and I know it all too well from myself. Mums always want to look after all their children equally. Mums like to think that they also have to manage this in the postnatal period. What a pressure to perform. What an incredible burden in the postpartum period, when the mum has to sort herself out again. Well, I thought, but the need for the same treatment might now be the solution to Lara's guilty conscience. I had already been with Lara after Max was born and so I could easily remind her of everything she had given for Max back then. She lay in bed with him and cuddled him all day long. She forgot that she had to eat herself. She didn't feel the need to take a shower back then. After all, she would have had to leave Max alone for a few minutes. Max had his mum all to himself - all day, for many weeks and, to be precise, until Ben was born three days ago. Three years of mum - all to herself. Ben had just the three days in hospital. He didn't know any more time "just mum". Ben's crying when I came called for mummy to be near. Max screamed his longing for his grandparents across the room. I heard that. Lara heard that too. And she began to come round to the idea that the equal treatment of the two children also has something to do with the equal fulfilment of the need that is there at the appropriate age. Ben has a need for mummy. Max needs to spend the day with his grandad. Suddenly everything seemed much easier.
She promised me that she would activate the grandparents and take Ben to the labour ward. Now I was hopeful that my remedies and tricks against the fever and milk stasis would actually work. I showed her how she could stimulate her milk flow with breast massage, left her some medication for the fever and explained how practical it was to treat the milk blockage with cabbage leaves. I was sure that Lara would be able to do this therapy despite her fever. And Ben, with his hunger, would take over the rest of the therapy. He was still enjoying his mum with strong, deep sucking.
Would there be someone who could organise the white cabbage? Lara was sure that her grandparents would do it later.
That's good. The grandparents can help. When I left, the children had stopped crying and the TV was off. Lara was still tired. But the look of embarrassment on her face and the guilty conscience had at least disappeared.
