“Tabard… right… I need one of those…” Ace was muttering to himself as he shuffled through the bustling streets of Montrose. “At least they’ll give me armor and a… a helper person; and I’ve got my sword,” he glanced at his shoulder as the owl on his shoulder made a clacking sound with her beak.

A tall, bulky man with a deep black beard walked past them. His blood red tabard bore an intricately woven lion of golden thread, and it was vibrant even in the clouded light. A small army of squires and guards followed, also bearing swatches of the same red on their gear. He walked with authority, looking down his nose at everyone around him–including Ace–as he passed.

“I bet that’s one of the other knights,” Ace bit his lip, offering a finger to stroke Orfea’s chin in an attempt to calm her. “I don’t think I like him either.”

He continued to weave through the crowds filling the street, and he found booths set up along the sides selling a variety of wares. Flowers, food, earthenware, clothing, and other trinkets were on display as shopkeepers called out to the crowds, hoping for even a few seconds of someone’s attention.

“Get ye’ gear here!” A man with a thick Weivan accent called from a nearby booth. “Scarves, tabards, banners–show ye’ pride for ye’ country! Show ye’ pride for ye’ knight!”

Ace stopped and joined the others gathered at the booth, eyeing the selection or wares hung from poles along the back. He perked up when he found tabards in traditional colors of each country: red and gold for Daethos, red and blue for Northaven, green and white for Weiva, and lavender and gold for Valiant. He frowned when Kalgara’s gold and blue was not found among them, but he was not surprised. Despite the peace treaty signed after the war, Kalgara was still not considered part of Daethos’ reign.

But then, a tabard in a simple shade of red with a black stripe down the middle and along its edges caught his eye.

“Excuse me!” 

Orfea hopped onto his head as he squeezed between two women to reach the booth’s front table. 

“Aye, how canna’ help ye’?” The red-haired man stepped up to the opposite side, blinking when he found himself face to face with a barn owl.

Ace coaxed Orfea to step onto his hand, and he returned her to his shoulder before pointing to the back wall. “What country are those colors for?”

The man glanced backward, following the direction of Ace’s gloved finger. A smile tugged at his lips when he saw the red and black fabric. “Oh, that’s one for the Spades District in Southern Northaven.”

“The Spades District,” the gambler began to grin. “Of course.”

“Aye, my new seamstress just made it th’ other day,” he turned back to Ace. ”I assume yer’ familiar?”

“I was born and raised in Fortanya.”

“That’s th’ heart of it, all right.” The man nodded.

“Ill take it,” Ace started to reach for his money bag.

The man’s smile grew genuine. “Oh, thank ye’, sir. My daughter will be–I mean–”

“Your daughter is your new seamstress?” Ace paused when he caught the slip.

The shopkeeper shrugged with open palms. “Aye, just… tryin’a get her interested in th’ family business.” He turned back to the wall and pulled it down from the pole. He handed it to Ace and watched as he ran his thumbs along the black edges. “Since we moved here, she’s become enamored over Northaven’s districts. I think she just likes th’ emblems.”

Sure enough, Ace’s thumbs found a pair of small embroidered swords crossed over a black, leaf-like spade on the top right of the tabard. “She does very good work,” he said, setting the fabric down on the table. “This will be perfect.”

“Very good, sir. The tabards are thirty silver pieces.”

“Thirty?” His hands froze in place. He knew he didn’t have thirty–not since buying Orfea and food for them both over the last two days; still, he felt compelled to sift through the bag nonetheless–if only just to show he was trying. “...I’m very sorry, sir; I only have twenty-two. I didn’t mean to waste your time,” he frowned and started to hand the tabard back to the man.

The man held up his hands. “No–I’ll split the difference.”

“What?”

“I really want her to sell her first tabard,” the man set a hand on the cloth to stop its movement. “Fifteen pieces, and it’s yours.”

“Sir, at least let me give you what I have–”

“Fifteen,” he stressed. “It’s going to a good home. ‘Sides, ye’ll need provisions while yer here for th’ tournament.”

Ace smiled, then bent down to count out fifteen pieces. He handed them to the shopkeeper, who accepted them gladly. “Thank you sir, I don't know what to say.”

“I’ll accept yer name,” he reached out once his hand was free of the coins.

Ace grasped his hand and shook it. “Ace Gallagher.”

“Ace?” He repeated, cracking a wide grin. “It really is goin’ to a good home, isn’t it.”

Ace simply smirked.

“I’m Robert Murphy. My wife, there at the other end of the booth, is Charlotte. My daughter, Rose, is not here at th’ moment, but I’ll be sure to tell her she’s made a sale.”

“And tell her when I have more money, I will buy all the Spades District gear she’s got.”

Robert gave a hearty chuckle. “I'll do it. Enjoy th’ tournament, Ace; I assume you're rooting for th’ Knight o’ Northaven?”

Ace chewed on his smile. “Yeah, I sure am.”

“Well, I’ll wish th’ best of luck to Northaven tomorrow on your behalf!” He raised a fist.

“Thank you, Robert, I’ll...” he paused, “I’ll bet he’ll need it.”

“And that’s one very well behaved bird ye’ve got there!” He pointed to Orfea. “I’ve been meanin’ to say so.”

“Oh, thanks,” he reached up to gently stroke the bird’s feathers. “She’s a good judge of character.”

Robert simply chuckled. “Good'ay, Ace.”

“Good day,” he nodded.

Ace returned to the crowd, again weaving around the groups of visitors, vowing to save the rest of his money for absolute emergencies. He almost immediately caved when he passed a booth selling sweet pies and savory pastry pockets–and the rumble of hunger in his stomach convinced him to stop for lunch. Thankfully, the meat-filled treat was only one more of his silver pieces, but the dwindling number in his money bag reminded him how much he needed the prize.

“I sure hope I can win this thing,” he again began to mutter to himself as he returned to the arena with his new tabard and dinner in hand. He took a bite of the pastry and then pinched off a bit of the shredded pork inside to hand it to Orfea. She swallowed it gladly.

“‘Cause, if not… well,” his focus turned inward, “I don’t think Athena’s going to give me another chance.”

---- 

More from the jousting story! This one happens before the tournament (as I'm sure you gathered) and also stemmed from me realizing how little Ace really has when he goes into this thing. I really kinda glossed over that in the first draft... ha.

Also figured out how I could still work "Spades" in since I changed the country's name to Northaven. Now Spades is a district! The only other I know of is the Diamonds district (the line of distinction between the two is very apparent) and I assume the other card suits have their place too.

Lastly, I swapped Ace buying a mini dragon to Ace buying a barn owl off an old lady. I did kinda forget Ace gets her in this story... so she should still be around in Book 5.

Fun story for Orfea's name: my old boss/friend Ken and his wife took me to go see the opera "Orfeo ed Euridice" at one of the colleges one evening when I was working with them. We ate at Cracker Barrel  before, where I found a snowy owl plush that I had to purchase. We went to the opera, and enjoyed it, and on the way home I decided I would name the owl Orfea (because even the "actor" playing Orfeo/Orpheus was a girl/alto and I wanted her to be a girl owl). So even though Ace's owl is not a snowy owl, I still like the name for an owl. And Orfea means "darkness of night" so it works well for an owl anyway.

“And now: the final match of this tournament,” Havar proclaimed from atop his dusty friesian. “The two knights who have fought with the most skill, prowess–and even some cunning–will take to the ring one last time and prove who is, indeed, the best of all knights in the realm!”

Despite some booing left over from the outcome of the previous joust, the crowd, as a whole, was feeding right into the hype the grandmaster was giving them.

“One knight, seasoned with experience and adeptly skilled; the other, a young challenger who has proven his worth with ruthless determination. These knights: Sir Lucas Santiago of Daethos, and Sir Michael Gallagher of Northaven!”

Ed blinked. “Gallagher? You’ve got to be kidding me…”

The crowd burst into a lively cheer around him.

Havar turned his horse and began to pace her slowly across the field. “As these knights suit up one last time, let us recall the daring feats we have witnessed today.”

While the grandmaster began to recall the first joust, Ed took his chance to slip out of the arena. He staggered to a stop, noting the number of patrolmen stationed at the door had doubled since he had entered. They glanced at him for only a moment, but soon turned their attention back to the field. His brows lowered, he continued past them without another look.

He hurried around the hill, finding a worn path that led into the knights’ courtyard. He scanned the canvas tents, each decorated in the colors of each knight, looking for any sign of Ace among them. He stepped into the camp and immediately crossed the open tent of Sir Santiago. He was turned away as his squire fastened his breastplate. His black and white tunic was stained with mud, sharply contrasted by the brighter colors of the banners hanging around him.

Beside it, Ed found another tent bearing Daethos’ colors and crest–along with a second crest with a golden lion on a field of red. The tent was closed, but there was clearly activity going on behind the canvas. The next two tents were empty, bearing the green coat of arms for Weiva, the lavender shades of Valiant. The next tent was closed and only had a few red and black banners tied to the posts.

At last, Ed approached the tent with the coat of arms of Northaven, but he found the tent flap closed. He frowned, debating bursting into the tent to catch Ace off guard.

“Here you are, sir.”

Ed abruptly turned around to face the stables across from the circle of tents to find an older man adjusting the pauldron on a young man’s right shoulder.

“Holy mother of dracleons: that is Ace Gallagher in a jousting tournament…” Ed whispered under his breath.

He discreetly slipped into an empty stall, blending into the shadows as both Ace and his armor-bearer were facing away from him. He held his breath, watching the man tighten the straps of the knight’s armor one last time.

“Ow–careful,” Ace winced, grasping the sleeve of his red and black tunic.

“My apologies, Sir. That shoulder’s taken quite a beating,” Wayland mentioned gently. “You would do well to not fall from your horse another time.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he puffed air through his lips. He then squared up with Wayland as the man lifted the silver helmet from the rack. As it was held in the air between them, Ace’s lips tugged to a smile. “Thanks for all your help, Wayland,” he said.

The older gentleman simply slipped the helmet onto the knight’s head and offered, “I am here to serve.” When he stepped back to survey his work, he caught Ace’s green eyes–barely visible beneath the shadow of the helmet.

“You show great promise, Sir Gallagher,” Wayland nodded, crossing his wrists as his arms hung at his middle. “Keep up your training, and I wouldn’t doubt this land will one day be filled with your tales.”

He let out a short laugh. “I’m not sure I want that anymore, to be honest.”

Wayland’s half-grin stretched beneath his gray mustache, and he turned to retrieve Lady from her stable. He assisted Ace into the high-backed jousting saddle, then adjusted the red and black caparison beneath it that covered the mare’s white and brown fur. Lastly, he carefully attached the shield to Ace’s already tender shoulder.

“Are you ready, sir?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Ace quipped, gathering the reins in his hand.

The hired armor bearer nodded and followed silently behind the Knight of Northaven as they entered the tiltyard. The clouds were continuing to thicken in the air, dulling the once vibrantly sunny day. It seemed even the weather knew the end of the tournament was near.

Back in the shadows, Ed’s lips were skewed. He was shocked no one had bothered to check Ace’s true pedigree; stunned no one realized Ace was only a knight in honor, not in skill. He, on the other hand, had worked up the ranks and trained daily to earn his position as a knight in order to join the Daethen Patrol–although it had all been stripped upon his departure from the program. How could Ace simply slip through and gain a position in one of Daethos’ most prestigious games without doing any of the work to get there?

Cheers wafted into the stables as Sir Gallagher waved his hand to the crowded stands. 

Ed took a step into the middle of the room, watching the spectacle unfold.

And yet, somehow, the former thief and gambler had advanced to the final round.

“It has to be luck,” Ed muttered under his breath. “That’s all that kid has going for him.”

“Excuse me,” a voice came from behind him.

Ed scooted aside to find the black and white knight and his armor bearer entering the stable. He watched the armor bearer take the golden-colored mare from her stall and hold her reins as the knight climbed into the saddle. They then entered the field to a similar cacophony of cheers.

A bellowing voice was quickly approaching from the opposite direction. He slid back into the stall moments before a bearded knight in red and gold entered the stable with a purpose. His squire was running to keep up.

“Fetch my horse!” Sir Laude growled, adjusting the pieces of his armor as he stood in the center of the room.

The squire, however, was heaving to catch his breath with wide eyes. “Sir–I don’t–”

“Don’t what?” The knight roared to the squire, “Are you getting cold feet, Ratlin?”

The squire shook, raising up his hands as his eyes darted between the cries from the field, the snorting of the horse, and Rei’s seething breath.

“Well?”

"I just don’t–what if it doesn’t work?"

The squire could not move fast enough by the time he noticed the knight’s hands were on the golden hilt of his sword. He was slashed across the arm as he rolled away, shrieking as blood began staining the gray sleeves of his tabard.

“If you’re not on my side, I have no need for you!” Rei gripped the draconic sword with a tight fist. “Get out of here!!”

The squire staggered over his own feet and bolted out of the stables.

“You! Stablehand!”

Ed jumped, finding the knight glaring at him through the dim light.

“Fetch my horse, will you?” He slid the sword into its sheath. “The black stallion.”

The man swallowed and ran to the stall of the black stallion. He flinched when the horse pawed at the ground and snorted when he opened the stall, but he took the reins in his hand and led it out with a firm hand. The horse tried to back away more than once, but each time, Ed regained control.

Sir Laude watched the man work. “You have a good hand with horses,” he commented.

“Thank you, sir.” Ed nodded as the knight climbed onto his horse.

The knight turned toward the camp. “Attend, ho!”

Out of habit, Ed stood straight and fell in line behind Sir Laude–as a handful of other men rushed in and joined him.

Rei’s stance perked up at Ed’s gesture. “Are you a knight?”

Ed remained still under Rei’s scrutiny. “I was,” he emphasized the past tense.

Rei fingered his beard. “Daethos?”

“Northaven.”

“That will do.” The Knight of Daethos shifted in his saddle. “You lot–stay behind me and wait for my signal. My plan will not fail because of the men currently on this field.”

Ed swallowed again, glancing to the field before him as Sir Gallagher lined up for his final joust.

---

This was on the shorter side, and I remember writing it when I realized Ace would probably be assigned a random armor bearer to help him when he joins the jousting tournament. Wayland is an elderly fellow who ends up really helping coach Ace through everything (along with Sir Lucas being a very kind opponent).

Also, as much as Ace seems to be getting along off luck -- in Ed's opinion -- ironically, it also sets things up for Ed's future...

Said it'd be a post, so here it goes. I put all the Rook stuff in the chat since her situation isn't part of the rant, it just is happening on the tail end of things. (This being written at 8/27 17:30, so any changes will just be tacked on at the end.)

I know I've mentioned it here at some point, but when I had to pick a pediatrician I went with one about an hour away. The doctors in this area aren't great, and one of the things I wanted was to do vaccines on my schedule. We know people who have had kids have awful allergic reactions to some vaccines, so doing things like splitting the ones grouped together was what I wanted to do just on the off-chance Minerva had some type of reaction. Figure out which she had the reaction to easier and all that. And, there are some vaccines kids--babies especially--should not get because they don't need them. These are for sexually transmitted (or needle transmitted) diseases. Now, if people want to have the conversation why they're injecting kids and babies to prevent a sexually transmitted disease, then let's have it. But, it's easier to just ignore the why and shoot a preventative into them. And easier to pretend these preventatives don't come with adverse side effect a great deal of the time.

This brings me to her birth. Or extraction. And I'll have to talk about what that was like a little. In a word: horrifying.

It wasn't the c-section that was horrifying either. You can mentally prepare for that to some degree. You know they'll cut into you, and that recovery is going to suck (even if you don't know how much), and that you'll be limited greatly (even if you don't get how great). You know you'll get a spinal, and that you won't be able to feel any of the cutting. And you know you won't feel your legs or be able to walk for a while. Even if you know 'a while' is 8 hours, it doesn't really prepare you for how completely horrifying the spinal is.

It doesn't really hurt when they do it. Kind of like a pinch and pressure on your spine. But, then you instantly get this burning, and you feel the burning flowing down your spine and that burning is the last thing you feel. You feel it travel and as it makes it's way down, you lose all feeling and sensation right down to your toes. And that's it, totally helpless. Can't sit up. Can't roll. Paralysis completely, except you can feel them pulling and tugging once they have their hands inside of you and once they're stitching the different muscle layers back together. Doesn't hurt, but you feel it. 

Nurses move your legs. Nurses throw you from table to bed. And they constantly check after surgery to make sure you aren't paralyzed for real by asking you to move things. But, what's really bad, is that you know somehow what position your legs are in, and you know that normally it isn't very comfortable--or that you've been in that position too long and need to change it up. And you can't. Your brain keeps sending the signal, and nothing happens. And you know why so you can talk yourself out of panic, but there still is a little bit of it just because your body doesn't work.

Oh, and the spinal travels upward a little after they pull the baby out. So, they drop her two inches from your nose, and you can't really see her without seriously crossing your eyes. And for me... I didn't have that magical, instant bonding experience. I was just going, 'okay, I can barely see her and my right arm is going numb, and I want to get out of here so I can actually meet her properly and start bonding'.

So, they take her away. My mom goes with her so that she isn't sent to the nursery. And then starts the 30+ minute process of stitched me up. Which you can feel but not really feel. The doctor is tugging the threads so hard your body gets jerked and tugged, but you don't feel pain or anything. You just know it would be nice if it was sped up. (Like them actually removing her which I mentioned in the chat--it's 8/29 now). I don't finally get to hold her until all this is done, so somewhere between 30-45 minutes after she's born.

And it was barely a minute. My mom handed her to me. I got to pretty much look at her before a nurse or someone comes in and takes her, puts her off to the side, and hands me two consent forms to sign. Vitamin K shot and Hep B shot. So, I'm trying to remember what Vitamin K was used for. I skimmed about it many months ago, and my only experience with it is that the feral vet used it on Pim Mattie when he was crashing. I'm going 'wait she looked okay to me though for the half a minute I saw her'. But then you get the Hep B. I was going 'that's the one I don't want... isn't that the one I don't want, I thought I had a month before they tried to give her that'. My mom, who knew all the stuff I looked into, flat out asks what the Hep B was. And the b*tch lied to her and said it was a SKIN TO SKIN CONTACT. So now I'm like... is this the other Hep? Because they told my mother Minerva could get it if someone held her! Which is a complete lie! And so, less than an hour old, and I messed up by saying they could give her both shots.

My sister looked it up that night and confirmed it was the sexually transmitted/needle transmitted Hep that I originally thought it was. That I wasn't given any time to process. And somewhere in my gut I knew. I was watching them stab her in the thighs just mentally going 'this is wrong'. I pretty much consented to them hurting her, maybe really impacting her negatively later down the road. I still can't think about it with it really messing me up, because part of me says maybe if I instantly bonded, I would've been more protective and stopped them.

But, we're not finished yet. Minerva was awake the entire day and well into the night she was born. Very unusual (and extremely likely because of the Vitamin K). I went about the motions of holding and feeding her. My mom had to stay until after 9 to change her diapers since I still couldn't move. It was getting better by the hour in that area, but it was still surreal and out of a sci-fi horror to have your body just not respond to your brain. I think I was starting with fairly big movements for the situation because my brain was screaming for 8 hours to move. I was up and walking without help (despite the nurses' efforts) right around he 8-hour mark.

Now I'm starting to get tired. The adrenaline is gone. I can walk again, and it's just me and my baby. And she's also finally starting to fall asleep. Naturally, I'm going 'good we can both get some rest because today was a lot'. But, not so. And I don't really blame the night nurse on this part. He--yep, it was a dude--kept coming in to wake us both up. He had to make sure she was eating every three hours. Had to make sure I wasn't bleeding out/change my pee bag/check me pee bucket once he got rid of the pee bag (childbirth is gross y'all). The only problem with all this was it meant I wasn't sleeping. First night: 15 minutes. Minerva just slept. It was a lot to get her to wake up, and to eat, and I ended up asking how normal all that was, but also remembered she being awake for over 9 hours straight was not normal. But, since I kept asking about the feeding, he did go find formula and see if she wanted it off his finger. Which she didn't, so he guessed she was eating enough off me. But it still didn't feel right.

[Quick break with some funny regarding that first night nurse. He was a gay man. So, when you get a c-section, because you're dead from roughly the bottom of your lungs down, nurses with come violently massage your stomach every two hours to help your body get rid of clots. Once you can move around, you pee into a bucket in the toilet so that you can see if you have clots bigger than a golf ball. Those are bad clots. Well, my day nurse--a girl about my age--explained it to me like period clots. If it just looks like a period, no worries. If it's too much or too big compared to that, call the nurse. Well, I had a clot not golf ball sized but not a tiny thing. Not anything unusual, so didn't call my night nurse. He went into the bathroom to check the pee bucket, quietly freaked, and called a more senior nurse in to look. She's like 'no that's normal'.

Second funny story with him, when I was really starting to complain about how I didn't think Minerva was eating enough, he goes 'let me show you something... can I touch your breast' but the way he said it was like 'noooo'. And he kind of air mimed and just told me want to do instead. Like, his hand got close, flinched, and he just instructed me. I was so tired at this point (and starting to worry about my kid) that I almost laughed.

He must really think the whole new baby thing is magical or something to want to work that ward when his interest in the female is so limited.]

Night nurse goes to day nurse, and now it's a new set of people coming in to introduce themselves, check vitals on me and the baby, and all that. I meet the pediatrician assigned to her for our stay. I bring up eating with all of them, because something is just not seeming right. And now all she does is sleep. She's up a few random minutes to eat. Doesn't really dirty diapers. I'm told in her first 24 hours she'd dirty one diaper and pee one, and the joke was she was ahead of schedule because she had around seven dirties/pees in her first few hours (why my mom stayed so long--this is also likely because of having a vitamin shot into her veins). The lactation consultants visit, I bring up the feeding with them. They keep showing me a circle pinned to their uniforms the size of a red, seedless grape telling me that was her stomach size so only a few drops of the super-rich colostrum would be what she needed. Nurses wore the same button, told me the same thing. During the day, blood is taken from Minerva to send to the state for various reasons they're unclear on. Just drops on a piece of paper, not a vial. And she screamed and cried and it still is unclear why they did that. Test and public safety or something. No specifics.

Second night nurse comes in. I bring up feeding. Same story with the grape pin. She takes blood from Minerva, and she doesn't cry or barely wake up. And I'm like 'hey she didn't cry or anything and you just sliced her heel and squeezed the heck out of it to bleed a vial full'. Nurse says she's good at her job, then asks me to take a quick survey and to shout out specific people. First off, I wasn't paying attention. Second, WTF? I mention the previous night nurse, the housekeeper, and I just offhandedly 'I guess you too because you cut her and bled her and she didn't wake up or cry'. She goes, 'cool your pain meds are scheduled for 6am, see you then'. I never saw her again. 

By 7am, I really, really needed those meds and I said something to a midwife (my group that was supposed to do all my care and delivery would send someone to check on me since they were not doing care because of the c-section) and she just told me to call for a nurse since she couldn't give me meds. I call. No nurse. 8am rolls around, shift change. I meet my day nurse about fifteen minutes later, get meds and water, and bring up the eating thing again. She gives the same speech, but also obviously knows I keep bringing this up, because I got a whole swat team of lactation consultants later. ...Who all gave me the same speech, showed me the button, and just kept squeezing my boob. And at this point--another sign something wasn't right--all the boob stuff was hurting. I was actually bleeding. My day nurse came to me with a 'so you have four days here but you could get out today if you want'. I heard this before from others, so of course, 'if my baby is all good and healthy, I'm taking her home'. My discharge orders are put in, doctor comes to check Minerva out, says she's all good, and we get ready to leave.

Oh, but I didn't forget about that Hep B or that night nurse. When she did her survey I brought up the shots, just coming from the OR and being blindside. So, when the new nurse leader for the day shift came to check on me because I was leaving, she wanted another survey. Brought up the shots, and then 'oh yeah... I never got my pain meds from that night nurse, sort of uncomfortable'. I hadn't met the day nurse at this point or the hearing tester, because they were both cool enough. One brought me a whole team of--unfortunately useless--consultants and the other let me hover and take pictures of the test she was preforming. Very curious when they found out Minnie's "origins". Thought it was neat and beautiful (I still think it's kind of weird and I'm the one that did it, lol).

We're almost to the end of the rant. But first, a nitpick annoyance that happened all the way back when I was getting out of surgery, because I forgot until I was in the shower. Night before, I'm told no food or drink after midnight. So, light dinner as late as possible, and no fluids by I think nine or ten, because, y'know sleep. When the nurse went to find a vein she's like 'wow you must be dehydrated, I'm having trouble'. Umm, yes? And I told her yeah, no food and drink because of surgery, and she's just 'oh yeah that's right'. So, first time she tried she popped my blood vessel (the huge bruise is finally not dark purple anymore, and I remembered all this because I saw it in the shower). This bruise is on my right forearm. Second time, left under-wrist. No luck, I watched the needle bend, so if she had pushed it like the first attempt, also would've bruised. My mom is going 'why not the crook of her arm, you can see those without tying off'. And they said they do that as the absolute last resort because it interferes with holding/feeding the baby. Okay, understandable. But where did they put the IV? In my right wrist joint. So... just in my dominate hand in a spot that is in constant motion, including feeding and holding the baby.

But now the end. Discharged Friday afternoon. Have an appointment with Minnie's actual pediatrician for Saturday late morning. The other option was Monday first thing in the morning, but since I live so far I went 'aw man, I wanted a rest from doctors and stuff, but no way let's do Saturday'. First thing when we check in, they ask if the hospital gave her those shots. I said yes, they ambushed me after surgery, and we are not doing the follow ups for the Hep B. They ask if I have concerns. Yes, I'm starting to get very paranoid about her eating because something isn't feeling right about the whole thing.

Her weight had dropped significantly from when they discharged me (her weight loss was in normal levels according to them), her blood sugar had tanked, and it was recommended to take her back to the hospital through the ER so she could be monitored and fed around the clock a few days. She backtracked a bit when I said where I delivered, recommending I take her to the hospital arund the corner instead if I really need to go to the ER. I basically excused myself at this point before I completely freaked out, and left my mom to get all French-Canuck to sus things out and go off on the hospital.

Well, after talking to my mom, they tried her on formula and she held it down. So, I was given some to take home and to just go thru the weekend. I guess my mom mentioned to her I had a c-section, and the doctor was like 'and they let her leave after two nights!?' so, yeah all that is crazy too. I had to look this up, because I wasn't told and absoluetly should have been, but when you do a c-section you get your milk in later. So, this kid of mine was kind of being starved and hurting me in the process because I had no milk and wasn't making near anywhere enough colostrum. I did finally get it in, but that was Monday night and Minnie was already on the formula to make sure she was eating/tolerating it. Plus, it was bloody. Hopefully I didn't accidently give her a taste for human blood. That'd be awkward.

I am going to try to combo feed, and ween her back to milk. It'll just have to be in a bottle. She makes the most disgusted faces when I try it natural. It's funny, mildly insulting, but I'm not going to complain too much since that freaking hurts.

I suppose enough time has gone by for me to start forgetting stuff (now it's 8/31). The take away from it all is that the hospital with the bad reputation that I wasn't supposed to deliever at, I delivered at, and it was a horrible experience. Mostly because of the ambushing with the shots she doesn't need and shouldn't've had. I have my own medical junk tied to the whole thing too with the cutting open and recovery of that. but... oh, I remembered another thing that hospital did.

To end for real, they gave me a prescription for oxycodine to take home, and offered it the whole time I was there. While they knew I was exclusively breatfeeding. I thought that was very odd, so didn't take it and just kept to a single motrin every 8-10 hours. I checked when I was discharged, and my suspcions about it were correct: you don't take that while breastfeeding because you can cause health issues on top of getting them addicted. No wonder they treat all newborns like crack babies and there is an addiction problem in this area.