Hit by a Mack truck

Apparantly, that's how you're supposed to feel after a cesarean. My nurse broke it down like this,
Week 1: You feel like you've been hit by a Mack truck.
Week 2: Truck turns into a bus.
Week 3: Bus becomes a pick-up truck.
Week 4: Pick-up becomes a compact car.
Week 5: Car becomes a motorcycle.
Week 6: Motorcycle becomes a guy on a bicycle.

Day 1: Drugs are good! Feeling very little pain and when I do, they give me more! In and out of sleep. Baby girl is in the nursery and because of the catheter, I don't even have to get up to pee!
Drugs are bad! Why am I here? I had a baby? Where is she? She's crying and I can't get to her! Damn catheter. How am I supposed to breastfeed like this?

Day 2: Not only did that Mack truck hit me, I think he backed up and ran over me a second time! Gotta pee....much more difficult now without the catheter. Why are these people coming to visit me now? PAIN! If I didn't have my baby in my arms, I would swear she was still in my belly! Something was moving and kicking in there! Gas?! Walk it off?! You're nuts!! I can't move!

Day 3: So here I am walking the halls and drinking hot water, whatever they tell me to do to get rid of the gas from surgery. My kingdom for a fart!

Baby girl won't take the breast. She either screams or falls asleep. Meanwhile the pediatrician is giving me heat because the baby is being supplemented with formula while I'm waiting for my milk to come in. What am I supposed to do? Let the child starve right after birth? I'm tired of all these breastfeeding "experts". Especially the little nurses fresh out of school who have never had a baby! More people have squeezed my breasts in the past 72 hours than I can count. According to pediatrician, I'm already a bad mother. Great! When does baby girl publish her tell-all book "Mommy Fed Me Formula"? My hormones and sanity can't take it any longer. Fight or flight senses kick in and I yell at everyone in a hospital uniform to get out of my room! I think this crowned a new nickname for me at the nurses station. Who cares!

Meanwhile, it finally happens! Just after midnight I pass the gas through my back passage! So happy I want to call everyone I know and wake them up to share the good news!

Day 4: The OB/GYN that performed my surgery pays me a visit, says I can go home! YAY!!! You never saw a post-op patient pack so fast!

We bring baby home, hurting and exhausted. She won't settle at all. Won't take the breast, spits up what she gets from the bottle and just screams.
Finally at 6 AM, she's asleep! I think we may get an hour! Insert Murphy's Law here: The fire alarm starts yelling "CARBON MONOXIDE" You've GOT to be kidding me!
By 6:30 AM the fire department is going through our house and gives us the all clear. Oy vey!

PAIN! I will feel better next week once my staples come out. Right?