I made it through (I do know it's not thru and Chad is sitting here shaking hiz head at it so now I am using hiz instead of thru) the entire birth without cussing. For those of you that don't get to speak with me in real life often, I cuss a shit ton. My husband cusses a lot, and to me it's sort of what I am good at. Cussing is my gift. However, I wanted Charlie to come into this world without cussing, and the nurse not to think I was white trash.
I was in labor for about 30 hours. It was not that bad, except I couldn't eat. That was terrible. You deny me food and you pretty much have a problem on your hands. As the hours wore on, my sister was starting to ask me what the first thing was that I wanted to have when I could eat again.
Chad's Mom came to stay with us before Charlie got here. She brought a cake from Food Lion. I am a cake snob, and that cake my friends was glorious. It is a strawberry torte. And to tell you the truth, a few weeks ago I ate slightly over a quarter of a cake in one sitting and spent the next hour in the bathroom because I had effectively made myself sick on it. It was totally worth it. But just talking about it does make me a little sick now.
So, my sister's husband is holding down the house and coming and going from the hospital during all this time. I tell my sister that all I want after I have him, is a piece of strawberry cake. So, he comes back to the hospital with a slice of cake and a couple containers of stew for us. The hours wear on.
After all the waiting you do, when the doctor says you can start pushing, you don't believe them. I was like "NOW!?" I had been doing those squatty things for 3 hours. The nurse was amazed. The epidural doc came in and saw me up and moving and was like "uhhhh what are you doing?" My response, "Being awesome." <- that's not true I told him the other doctor told me to do it. He then says "How are you doing that?" I wasn't sure, but it made me feel awesome to know I am not the run of the mill birth.
They tell me to push in sets of three...It was super hard because it seemed like the one area I really couldn't feel at all was that area. Bearing down just felt like trying to visually pop a zit. What I could feel was myself....pooing. It totally happened my friends. I remember apologizing to the nurse as she wiped it away with a puppy pad. She said I shouldn't be able to feel that, or know it's happening. Nurse Stephanie, I am THAT poo-aphobic.
After what feels like 10 hours, I start getting heated and demand that they pull him out. The male doctor, smiles politely because he hasn't been there for the 30 hours leading up. I am a little exhausted ya jerk. My doctor shows up, and I just start screaming, "SUCK HIM OUT!" "SUCK HIM OUT!"
Did I forget to mention that throughout the entire process I had my eyes closed? Chad had to tell me to open them to see them pulling the rest of Charlie out. The truth is, that when you are about to deliver, the room you are in starts to feel like a phone booth with 12 people in it. I couldn't deal with the 12 people in the room all standing.
Charlie wasn't breathing the way they wanted him to, so he spent some time in the NICU. Before they took him away, they handed him to me. I remember thinking, I have no idea how to hold him. He was so small and fragile.
Then, we were left to recover. My sister came back in the room and very casually mentions, "Mom ate your strawberry cake." At this exact moment my Mom comes into the room as I am in the middle of saying, "THE ONE FUCKING THING I WANTED AFTER THIS WAS ALL OVER?!? SHE ATE MY FUCKING CAKE?!?"
In hindsight I realize that may have been a bit harsh. Hormones after you give birth are Gary Busey to the 10th power. She did however, eat my cake. She was capable of LEAVING the hospital. I was not. Ok, I guess I'm still not over that.
She comes to visit us the next day. One of the first things she says to me while she's sitting there is, "Don't worry, I told everyone you didn't tear."
W
T
F
?
Who could possibly want to know that?
WHY is that one of the first things you tell said weirdos?
It also wasn't true.
It makes me not have nearly as much guilt over this blog. I love the lady to death, but come on now...WHO DOES THAT?!?
Tomorrow's post...welllll let's just say it involves foreskin and some of our closest friends. AND MY MOM.
LOLing. The hubs enjoys hearing about your blog second-hand (we started saying "I would like your mother to take me home now" every time we thought someone was creepy, so thanks for that one) and he really enjoyed your fucking strawberry cake story (I had to clean it up for E's tiny ears) (good thing he can't read).
ReplyDeleteAlso? Sometimes I wish I could just talk about vaginal tears in public, like it would help me get over the TRAUMA of it, but it's also sooooo personal. Like, super personal. Like, totally should be like at least third, maybe lower, on the list of things to tell people.
I just laughed so hard I cried knowing you two say "I would like your mother to take me home now." Well, it should be your personal choice to discuss it or not discuss it. It shouldn't be knowledge you tell on someone else's behalf!
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