Typing one handed that is.
The first night wasn't too bad. I'm very sore but I managed to nurse Leo on one side, falll asleep nursing, wake up when he fussed, shove him upright and drape him over my hip to burp (that maneuver came right back to me though I had forgotten it), and gingerly roll over to plop him on the other side to nurse again. I didn't have to wake Mark except twice so he could hold Leo while I hobbled to the bathroom.
(If I could give one bit of advice to my ten-years-younger, pre-child self, it would be: get over any idea that it's not "fair" for him to get more sleep than you. With a new baby to care for, it is a whole lot more sensible to keep at least one person functioning adequately. I am sure there is an extended metaphor there worthy of a whole blog post but I will leave it as an exercise for the reader.)
So that first long night I slept pretty well, and so did Mark, even though eventuyally I did reach the point where I had to wake him up to beg for my breakfast.
The second night the milk started to come in, and Leo started to pee,and things got a little complicated. I just couldn't move very fast, and it seems he is the sort of baby who doesn't like to feel damp. HELLO. CAN I GET SOME SERVICE HERE. He's sleeping naked on a pad of cloth diapers on the same disposable underpads that are under me. When he peed he fussed noisily and kicked his blankets off, got chilly and wailed louder, I rolled about confusedly, an inverted turtle, groping around fordry things but finding all of them just a little damp. How do I do this again? Can't sit up, tailbone hurts. Can't reach the fresh underpads. Out of diapers already. Sheet wet up by my head, how'd that happen? Baby wants blanket, it's wet, can't reach dry ones, uhhhh...
Then the baby's crying woke Mark, who had gotten all caught up on sleep the night before and so he could lift Leo up out of the puddle and smile and cuddle him till the crying stopped. My head cleared and I remembered what I needed. I know where it all is, Mark doesn't. It's about time I tried walking a bit anyway. I got to my feet, told Mark to stay put and keep Leo cozy, and shuffled down the hall to gather the nighttime supplies for baby pee, which I'd set aside weeks ago: a big piece of polar fleece (mental note: need more), a stack of large (not newborn) cloth diapers, and the small, plastic, one-handled mixing bowl I use as a baby potty when I can sit up some.
I shuffled back to the bedroom. Mark scooted over and I leaned over the bed, cleared away the wet and bloodied things. Decided the damp spot on the sheet was probably milk and not big enough to worry about. With one-handed help from Mark I spread the polar fleece on the sheet, across the full width of the bed. Put a disposable underpad on top of that (when I stop bleeding I'll replace that with soft absorbent wool), and finally a couple of large cloth diapers. Mark swaddled Leo loosely in the flannel and nestled him next to me on the diaper pad as I crawled stiffly into bed. Leo started and fussed a little -- he reacts to every little movement and touch -- but quickly quieted and latched on, and we slept.
One more change in the night went more smoothly, and then it was morning.