I don't know if I mentioned this earlier, but when the Munchkin was born, she came shooting out of my tunnel of love while riding a wave of her own poop. Yes. That's what I said...a wave of her own poop. It was to the point where the nurses had to jump out of the way and one of them went, "Whoa. Someone get a mop". So, we knew that her plumbing worked just fine and that she had given herself a pretty thorough gut cleaning as a way of starting herself off fresh. She was born on a Thursday early afternoon and we were discharged from the hospital that following Saturday.
Now, while in the hospital, the nursing staff like to make sure she's eating and drinking enough and one of the ways they do that is to weigh diapers for liquids and...well, poop. Peeing, not a problem. Pooping, however, was not happening any more. The nursing staff gave us a paper that provided us with a chart to keep track of how many times she peed and pooped while in the hospital and would also let us track it for the first week home. Being as anal and somewhat rigid I am about meeting goals like that, I started to get a little preoccupied by the fact that she was not pooping and, when it was time to be discharged, the pediatrician who checked her out did little to calm my fears. She basically said if monkey didn't poop by Sunday afternoon, to call our pediatrician. Great. Way to send home a new mom who already has enough anxiety. I'm surprised you didn't send me home with a list of common household items which are sure to kill my child if she's even in the same room with them. I mean, there are so many things they freak parents out about, "Don't let them sleep on their bellies b/c they could choke or suffocate"; "Make sure you have a fan in the room b/c that has been shown to help prevent SIDS, but we really don't know why SIDS happens. Some kids are just more prone to it due to brain chemistry", and may all time personal favorite, "More children are killed in car accidents despite being properly restrained". Anxiety 15, Jen 0.
Ok, so back to the poop. Sunday comes and no poop. So, we call the pediatrician and they didn't seem too worried. They told us to wait until Wednesday and, if still no poop, then we should call and they would see her to stick something up her butt to make her go and figure out what the problem was. Poor kid. I didn't have a doctor sticking things up my butt until I was in high school....wait, is that an overshare? Sorry. Be happy I didn't include any pics. Now, an interesting thing happens when there is a newborn in your home and there is some concern about the poop...you suddenly have family and friends who are calling fairly regularly to ask about your child's toileting patterns. We began receiving regular inquiries into our baby's pooping (or nonpooping) habits and Nicole and I found ourselves on poop patrol. With every slight change in the aroma in the air around us, we would check her diaper. Most of the time, the culprit for the air quality change was "the dog"...uh-huh. Each time, no luck. Monday came and went...no poop. Tuesday was Nicole's birthday and my family came over to have dinner to celebrate her birthday and spend time with the little one. It's amazing, but most of the dinner conversation revovled around poop. I say it's amazing because poop has not dominated any of my conversations since grad school. Prior to that, it was a fairly common topic, but not since I've matured...I hear you all laughing. Stop that! Anyway, we got through dinner and no poop. Finally, around 9pm it was time to put the little one to bed and she had an entourage follow her into her nursery to wish her sweet dreams. As soon as we put her in the crib, she let out the loudest, juiciest toot I have ever heard coming from such a small body. Now, this is the really sad part...ready? People actually cheered and my brother raced to grab her out of the crib to check her diaper. Want to know something even sadder yet? I had to stop him and let Nicole do it because she looked like she really wanted to find the poop. Lo and behold, with the opening of that diaper, we found a large deposit of poop. We all happily looked on (yes, we all looked on. Sorry, kiddo) as Nicole changed her diaper and then.....bbbblllllllhhhhhhhh. Another juicy toot and full on diaper load. Change her up, get her ready for bed again and....bbbbbllllllhhhhhh. Yes, another full on diaper. I'm telling you...she was just saving it up to make things more dramatic for everyone. Finally, after her 4th diaper change, she was again empty and ready for bed.
Now, she has a long first name which is made up of Nicole's grandmother's first name and my grandmother's first name. My understanding is that Nicole's grandmother could run with the big dogs when it came to passing gas and, I'm proud to say, our little girl is making her namesake proud!
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Sandman, Sandman. Wherefore art thou, Sandman?
So I always knew there would be little sleep happening once the baby was born. What I was not prepared for was that the restful sleep I had enjoyed all of my life would stop almost 6 weeks before she was born. At that time, I started waking up at like 2 in the morning and would lay (or is it lie?) in bed arguing with myself to go back to sleep. Typically, I lost the argument as I lay there in bed trying to figure out how to occupy my time. It usually went something like this, "DAMN!!! I need to go to sleep! Maybe I'll turn on the t.v. If I do that, I'll wake up Nicole. Tough crap, I should wake her up. Why should she get to sleep while I'm awake...ok, that's mean. I'd be upset if she woke me up just because. Maybe I could read. No, the light will still wake her up" and on and on my head would go. Now, if any of you are like me, you have lots of things in your room that light up (e.g. digital clock, cell phone) and what I came to realize is that those electronics give off lots of light. So, as I lay there looking at the various shadows that were created by my clock and cell phone, I started making shadow puppets. First, I started with your basic puppet of the bird flying and then moved on to the dog. Then, I started getting a bit more creative and made a rabbit (which looked like it escaped a zoo surrounded by a nuclear reactor), a wolf (which is really just the dog. No, really, still the dog...no changes in shape at all, just changes in the sound effects I make...well, not really much in the way of changes there either, but believe me, it's a wolf), and a human face. The face I came upon purely by accident, but once I realized I could do it, I started having a great time. The person interacted with the bird and the dog. I didn't think it was a great idea for the guy to do something with the wolf because wild animals can become quite unpredictable. Then, I started making snakes, but they were like giant snakes, so it became like a science fiction thriller from the '50s with some larger than life animal begins attacking the now diminuitive humans (Insert evil laugh here). I was quite enjoying my crazy Creature Features (anyone? anyone? bad Saturday afternoon matinee from the '70s? No? Nobody? K) when I realized that I could make smaller snakes...and that's when it happened. Being that my mind often travels in the gutter, I began making shadow puppet porn theater. Granted, most of the action was quite repetitive, but aren't most porns that way? And, at least there was no cheesy music or bad acting to go into this one. The music was first rate and the actors...well, it was like they already knew what to do without me having to direct them. It was pure NC17 shadowtainment. For those of you reading this and thinking, "She is a total pervert", all I have to say is stop being such a prude. Each and every one of you knows that, at some point in time, whether you want to admit it or not, you have watched a porn and know exactly what I'm talking about. I bet that some of you have even uttered the movie line of "There are porn movies that start this way". For example, many years ago when I lived in an apartment in Manchester with my friend, Sara, we were preparing to host a bachelorette party for my dear, dear friend Cristina. To celebrate the occasion, we cut out pictures of nake guys from Playgirl and posted them, along with various other sexualized images, all over our apartment. Sara had also just finished decorating a penis shaped cake and had it out on the counter ready for the festivities. It was right about this time that we got a call from our landlord stating the gas company needed to check something out in our apartment and that they would be up in a couple of minutes. As the reality of his statement began to settle into my head, I told Sara what was happening and I believe that's when one of us blurted out, "You know, there are porn movies that start this way". With that, there was a knock at the door and the poor, unsuspecting gas guy walked into what must have looked like a psychotic nymphomaniac's apartment. At first, he looked horrified and I was willing to let him sit with that horror for a bit longer, but Sara explained what was happening and slowly this creepy smile came over his face and he then...wait for it, wait for it...he then offered to be the stripper for the evening. Now, this would have been an offer that I could have possibly considered if the guy had not been in his late 50s, balding, had a beer gut, and, I'm pretty sure, was missing some of his teeth. So, needless to say, he did what he needed to do, left, and Sara and I had a pretty good laugh about it. But once again, I have digressed....
I had started talking about sleeping or the lack thereof and, sadly, the sleeping has not improved since the little munchkin was born. I was able to take 10 weeks of maternity leave, thankfully, and, during that time, she was getting up about 2x a night at the beginning and once a night toward the end. For that time, I didn't want to wake Nicole because she had to go to work, so I would get up, feed her, change her, and try to get some more sleep before getting up and doing it all over again. So, as it got closer to my returning to work, I began to revel in the fact that Nicole would be the one getting up with her at night while I got to sleep through it. While that was a great plan, there were a couple of flaws in that thinking: 1) this line of thought assumes that Nicole would hear her crying and get up to take care of it. This, sadly, is not the case. Nicole could sleep through the USC marching band going through the house in the dead of night, so the little noises that come from across the hall are not enough to cut it. Translation, I still have to get up to wake Nicole up to have her take care of the baby. Could I just do it myself since I'm already up, sure, but what fun would that be? 2) this line of thought also assumes that my little darling would continue to wake up in the middle of the night. I'm beginning to think that Nicole may be slipping something into her evening bottle because, my first week back to work, and this little punk has decided she is going to sleep until about 6:30 or 7:30 each morning. I'm pretty sure she is doing this just to make me crazy and, I hate to admit it, it's working. I sometimes just want to poke Nicole to make her wake up as a form of vengeful payback, but I don't have the heart to do it...most of the time. So, now I am finally able to sleep a good stretch through the night, but I am also having to get up earlier than I have ever had to in my life in order to get myself ready and get enough boob juice bottled to have her make it through the day while I'm at work. It's a darn good thing that she's as cute as she is. And, on that note, time for me to go tap the ta-tas for more boob juice. I feel like a human kegerator. It's like Happy Hour when I get home from work when my bae-bay gets to be a sloppy milk drunk, but that's a story for another time.
I had started talking about sleeping or the lack thereof and, sadly, the sleeping has not improved since the little munchkin was born. I was able to take 10 weeks of maternity leave, thankfully, and, during that time, she was getting up about 2x a night at the beginning and once a night toward the end. For that time, I didn't want to wake Nicole because she had to go to work, so I would get up, feed her, change her, and try to get some more sleep before getting up and doing it all over again. So, as it got closer to my returning to work, I began to revel in the fact that Nicole would be the one getting up with her at night while I got to sleep through it. While that was a great plan, there were a couple of flaws in that thinking: 1) this line of thought assumes that Nicole would hear her crying and get up to take care of it. This, sadly, is not the case. Nicole could sleep through the USC marching band going through the house in the dead of night, so the little noises that come from across the hall are not enough to cut it. Translation, I still have to get up to wake Nicole up to have her take care of the baby. Could I just do it myself since I'm already up, sure, but what fun would that be? 2) this line of thought also assumes that my little darling would continue to wake up in the middle of the night. I'm beginning to think that Nicole may be slipping something into her evening bottle because, my first week back to work, and this little punk has decided she is going to sleep until about 6:30 or 7:30 each morning. I'm pretty sure she is doing this just to make me crazy and, I hate to admit it, it's working. I sometimes just want to poke Nicole to make her wake up as a form of vengeful payback, but I don't have the heart to do it...most of the time. So, now I am finally able to sleep a good stretch through the night, but I am also having to get up earlier than I have ever had to in my life in order to get myself ready and get enough boob juice bottled to have her make it through the day while I'm at work. It's a darn good thing that she's as cute as she is. And, on that note, time for me to go tap the ta-tas for more boob juice. I feel like a human kegerator. It's like Happy Hour when I get home from work when my bae-bay gets to be a sloppy milk drunk, but that's a story for another time.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
I'm baaaaaaack! (plus one)
Hello, everyone! After a very long hiatus, I have returned to my formerly abandoned blog to catch everyone up on all the things that have been clogging up my brain since December. It's quite a bit and I'm going to try and break things up into more manageable chunks to make it easier to organize my ramblings. So, since I have not blogged since December, there is much to catch everyone up on. I'm not sure where to begin, but I guess I'll start with the little reason this whole blog was created in the first place, Shankapottamus.
As most of you know, Shank, aka monkey, sweet pea, doodle, cutie pie...(I should stop there before I embarrass either me or Shanky any more than I already have) was born on February 4th, 2010 at 1:06 pm. What many of you may not know is the story that goes along with Shank's big reveal. So, here's the story: Nicole and I went to the doctor on Wednesday, February 3, for our weekly appointment. At that time, we started discussing an inducement date and set it up for the following Monday. After that, the doc decided to check me out to see how things were progressing. So, I ever so gracefully put my legs in the stirrups and assumed that ever so sexy position of legs in the air with socks and that lovely 5 o'clock shadow on my calves (of course I shaved in the morning, but I'm a chop so, yes, I had hair on my legs by 3 pm. Don't hate). That's a hot image so far, isn't it? Yeah. I know. So, the doc ducs his head down and more of his limbs disappear beneath the sheet than I am comfortable with and his head suddenly pops up with this look of anxiety and confusion. You know that look, head slightly tilted to the side, eyes appearing perplexed, brows slightly furrowed...yeah, that look. So he says, "Hm. Does anything hurt?"
" No, I'm good. Why?"
"Well, you're 5 centimeters dilated and fully effaced. Do you live close by?"
"Yep"
"Ok, good. Sooooo, if you feel anything when you go home, don't call, just come in. Ok?"
"Yeah, sure".
So, Nicole and I head home and I started doing some stuff around the house when I start to feel a little weird. "Hm. Ok, probably nothing. I'm going to keep...Hm. That's weird. Maybe I should start timing these". So, I grab some paper, a pen, my watch and go back to folding laundry. Well, it didn't take me too long to figure out that these contractions were different from all the other contractions I had been having for the weeks leading up to this day (Remind me to update you all about that in another post if anyone wants to hear about it). Now, I decided not to tell Nicole about this immediately because I wasn't sure how she would initially react and I wanted her to clean up around the house a little more and I knew if I told her what was going on, we would have been done in that department. Therefore, like a crazy, emotionally unstable, psycho with a ponch, I start yelling at her to do different things in the house. Understandably, she did not respond to my demeanor very well, but assumed I was just cranky, and started in on the things I asked her to do. As my contractions went from 10 minutes apart to 4 minutes apart in less than 30 minutes, I got more worked up and screamed at her even more. Finally, she yelled back, "What the hell is the matter with you?!?!?"
"I'm in labor, damn it! My contractions are like 4 minutes apart and my back is freaking killing me!!! That's the problem! Now, MOVE IT!"
At that, the color drained from her face, she went, "Oh!" and ran into the other room. I decided to change into more comfortabe clothing and have something to eat, so I heated up some leftovers (Indian food...way bad choice) and sat down to eat. By this time, I had been having contractions for about 2 hours and my body said, "You know, um, they have drugs at the hospital".
"Nicole, I think we should go".
At that, we jumped in the car and headed to UCONN. As soon as we got there, we stopped in to my doctor's office and the nurse kind of looked at me and said, "Uh, yeah. The doctor is in with someone right now. If you want, you can wait, buuuut, I think you could probably head downstairs and he'll meet you there". As soon as we got downstairs to the unit, the nurses were ready for me and had me in a room and changed into a gown within 10 minutes. My nurse, Jackie (who was AWESOME) asked, "Now, do you have a birth plan in mind? Do you want to deliver naturally or..." Before she could finish, I basically told her the only natural thing I was wanting to do was to have an epidural as quickly as possible, naturally. I also then asked her if it would be possible to have an IV of whiskey. She laughed and told me she was Irish and saide she would LOVE to give me the IV whiskey but she hadn't figured out a way to do that yet, which was particularly sad for her because she is Irish.
A few minutes later, the anesthesiologist (and his intern) come in to the room and I find out that the intern is going to "do me" but the anesthesiologist is going to supervise (little comfort, but the contractions really kind of put that into perspective). The nurse says, hang your legs off the bed and rest them on this bench...Now, that request would be fine, if I weren't Portuguese and only 5'2" (5'3" on a particularly bad hair day), so she pulls up a chair and the intern goes to work...and misses the spot. DAMN!!!! I hear his supervisor mumbling to him "Yeah, that's not right. Do it again". Exsqueeze me?!?!? So, after a few more minutes, SUCCESS! Ah, sweet, sweet epidural.
The next 17 hours are a bit of a blur, but if this were a movie, this would be where the screen gets fuzzy, maybe has a little tilt, and there is a bad 60's song playing in the background indicating how stoned I actually was. Periodically, the doctors and nurses would come in, check my progress, and reassure me that I would have a baby by 4am, 6 am the latest. Somewhere around 6:30, Jackie came in and told me her shift was over and she would be leaving, but that she was going to make sure I got hooked up with a good nurse. "WAIT! What happened to a baby by 6?!?!?! You did mean today, didn't you?" And with that, Jackie was gone.
A few minutes later, my new nurese, Joanne came in. At first, I was a bit apprehensive because I so enjoyed Jackie, but Joanne soon proved that she was the best nurse for the job and she had me in stitches (I mean laughing, the other stitches come later) within minutes. A few more hours went by, my epidural being my constant companion and best friend, and soon it was lunch time. Oh wait, no luch for me. So what if it's been 19 hours since I've eaten and I puked up what I did eat. No problem. I'M ONLY PUSHING OUT A PERSON THROUGH AN AREA THAT USUALLY ONLY HANDLES LIQUIDS!!!!!!!!!!! SOMEONE GET ME A FREAKING CHEESEBURG
ER!!!! And by the way, for any males readers out there, it is a crock of crap that passing a kidney stone is equivalent to giving birth. Who came up with that analogy, anyway?!?! Some guy trying to minimize what the hell happened to his wife's va-jay-jay? Let me tell you something, HE'S LYING!! I think if a guy wants to know what it's like to give birth to something the size of a watermelon, perhaps he should pass a softball through his weiner and then we'll talk. Yeah...yeah...
Sorry, got a little carried away. Let me get back to where I was...lunch time. As I said, it had been about 19 hours in labor at that point and I wasn't really getting to where I needed to be to have this baby come out. My water had already been broken and I was maxed out on pitocin, so there wasn't much left to do to help Shank make an appearance. Finally, my doctor came in and started talking about an emergency c section if something didn't happen within the next hour. Now, in epidural land, that didn't sound so bad b/c I figured I wouldn't have to push this kid out of a very small opening, but, alas, Shanky had other ideas. No sooner had the doc left the room, when I started to have a very strange cramp in my left butt cheek. Having never had a baby before, I thought, "Maybe I should mention this b/c this is weird." "Uh, Joanne, I don't know if this is relevant or not, but my left butt cheek is cramping up something fierce."
"Really? Ok. Let me take a look." She takes a peek and says, "Yep. Time to push. Someone go get the doc."
"Time to push?!?!? You got that from a cramp in my ass?!?!" I couldn't believe that the pain in my ass was my kid getting ready to meet me.
Not 45 minutes later, Shank appeared and in grand style. Shank not only took a crap on the way out, but took a crap so big it created a slip and slide effect and shot poo way across the room. You know it's bad when even the medical staff goes, "Whoa". Now, the plan had been to hand me Shank right out of the shoot, but since there was enough poop to power a small factory, they rushed Shank over to a table to start working and cleaning. The crying started pretty soon after that, but still no one told me if I had a boy or a girl. Finally, Nicole, tears in her eyes and in full sob, said, "it's a girl!" Huh?!?!? Really? A girl? Are you sure? I don't want anyone to take that reaction the wrong way b/c I was ABSOLUTELY THRILLED BEYOND WORDS to have a daughter, but I had been absolutely CONVINCED that I was having a boy.
I was wrong. Instead, Nicole and I were blessed with an absolutely gorgeous, perfect little girl. She was born on February 4, 2010 at 1:06 pm. She weighed 7 lbs 12 oz and was 20" long. And did I mention that she is perfect.
As most of you know, Shank, aka monkey, sweet pea, doodle, cutie pie...(I should stop there before I embarrass either me or Shanky any more than I already have) was born on February 4th, 2010 at 1:06 pm. What many of you may not know is the story that goes along with Shank's big reveal. So, here's the story: Nicole and I went to the doctor on Wednesday, February 3, for our weekly appointment. At that time, we started discussing an inducement date and set it up for the following Monday. After that, the doc decided to check me out to see how things were progressing. So, I ever so gracefully put my legs in the stirrups and assumed that ever so sexy position of legs in the air with socks and that lovely 5 o'clock shadow on my calves (of course I shaved in the morning, but I'm a chop so, yes, I had hair on my legs by 3 pm. Don't hate). That's a hot image so far, isn't it? Yeah. I know. So, the doc ducs his head down and more of his limbs disappear beneath the sheet than I am comfortable with and his head suddenly pops up with this look of anxiety and confusion. You know that look, head slightly tilted to the side, eyes appearing perplexed, brows slightly furrowed...yeah, that look. So he says, "Hm. Does anything hurt?"
" No, I'm good. Why?"
"Well, you're 5 centimeters dilated and fully effaced. Do you live close by?"
"Yep"
"Ok, good. Sooooo, if you feel anything when you go home, don't call, just come in. Ok?"
"Yeah, sure".
So, Nicole and I head home and I started doing some stuff around the house when I start to feel a little weird. "Hm. Ok, probably nothing. I'm going to keep...Hm. That's weird. Maybe I should start timing these". So, I grab some paper, a pen, my watch and go back to folding laundry. Well, it didn't take me too long to figure out that these contractions were different from all the other contractions I had been having for the weeks leading up to this day (Remind me to update you all about that in another post if anyone wants to hear about it). Now, I decided not to tell Nicole about this immediately because I wasn't sure how she would initially react and I wanted her to clean up around the house a little more and I knew if I told her what was going on, we would have been done in that department. Therefore, like a crazy, emotionally unstable, psycho with a ponch, I start yelling at her to do different things in the house. Understandably, she did not respond to my demeanor very well, but assumed I was just cranky, and started in on the things I asked her to do. As my contractions went from 10 minutes apart to 4 minutes apart in less than 30 minutes, I got more worked up and screamed at her even more. Finally, she yelled back, "What the hell is the matter with you?!?!?"
"I'm in labor, damn it! My contractions are like 4 minutes apart and my back is freaking killing me!!! That's the problem! Now, MOVE IT!"
At that, the color drained from her face, she went, "Oh!" and ran into the other room. I decided to change into more comfortabe clothing and have something to eat, so I heated up some leftovers (Indian food...way bad choice) and sat down to eat. By this time, I had been having contractions for about 2 hours and my body said, "You know, um, they have drugs at the hospital".
"Nicole, I think we should go".
At that, we jumped in the car and headed to UCONN. As soon as we got there, we stopped in to my doctor's office and the nurse kind of looked at me and said, "Uh, yeah. The doctor is in with someone right now. If you want, you can wait, buuuut, I think you could probably head downstairs and he'll meet you there". As soon as we got downstairs to the unit, the nurses were ready for me and had me in a room and changed into a gown within 10 minutes. My nurse, Jackie (who was AWESOME) asked, "Now, do you have a birth plan in mind? Do you want to deliver naturally or..." Before she could finish, I basically told her the only natural thing I was wanting to do was to have an epidural as quickly as possible, naturally. I also then asked her if it would be possible to have an IV of whiskey. She laughed and told me she was Irish and saide she would LOVE to give me the IV whiskey but she hadn't figured out a way to do that yet, which was particularly sad for her because she is Irish.
A few minutes later, the anesthesiologist (and his intern) come in to the room and I find out that the intern is going to "do me" but the anesthesiologist is going to supervise (little comfort, but the contractions really kind of put that into perspective). The nurse says, hang your legs off the bed and rest them on this bench...Now, that request would be fine, if I weren't Portuguese and only 5'2" (5'3" on a particularly bad hair day), so she pulls up a chair and the intern goes to work...and misses the spot. DAMN!!!! I hear his supervisor mumbling to him "Yeah, that's not right. Do it again". Exsqueeze me?!?!? So, after a few more minutes, SUCCESS! Ah, sweet, sweet epidural.
The next 17 hours are a bit of a blur, but if this were a movie, this would be where the screen gets fuzzy, maybe has a little tilt, and there is a bad 60's song playing in the background indicating how stoned I actually was. Periodically, the doctors and nurses would come in, check my progress, and reassure me that I would have a baby by 4am, 6 am the latest. Somewhere around 6:30, Jackie came in and told me her shift was over and she would be leaving, but that she was going to make sure I got hooked up with a good nurse. "WAIT! What happened to a baby by 6?!?!?! You did mean today, didn't you?" And with that, Jackie was gone.
A few minutes later, my new nurese, Joanne came in. At first, I was a bit apprehensive because I so enjoyed Jackie, but Joanne soon proved that she was the best nurse for the job and she had me in stitches (I mean laughing, the other stitches come later) within minutes. A few more hours went by, my epidural being my constant companion and best friend, and soon it was lunch time. Oh wait, no luch for me. So what if it's been 19 hours since I've eaten and I puked up what I did eat. No problem. I'M ONLY PUSHING OUT A PERSON THROUGH AN AREA THAT USUALLY ONLY HANDLES LIQUIDS!!!!!!!!!!! SOMEONE GET ME A FREAKING CHEESEBURG
ER!!!! And by the way, for any males readers out there, it is a crock of crap that passing a kidney stone is equivalent to giving birth. Who came up with that analogy, anyway?!?! Some guy trying to minimize what the hell happened to his wife's va-jay-jay? Let me tell you something, HE'S LYING!! I think if a guy wants to know what it's like to give birth to something the size of a watermelon, perhaps he should pass a softball through his weiner and then we'll talk. Yeah...yeah...
Sorry, got a little carried away. Let me get back to where I was...lunch time. As I said, it had been about 19 hours in labor at that point and I wasn't really getting to where I needed to be to have this baby come out. My water had already been broken and I was maxed out on pitocin, so there wasn't much left to do to help Shank make an appearance. Finally, my doctor came in and started talking about an emergency c section if something didn't happen within the next hour. Now, in epidural land, that didn't sound so bad b/c I figured I wouldn't have to push this kid out of a very small opening, but, alas, Shanky had other ideas. No sooner had the doc left the room, when I started to have a very strange cramp in my left butt cheek. Having never had a baby before, I thought, "Maybe I should mention this b/c this is weird." "Uh, Joanne, I don't know if this is relevant or not, but my left butt cheek is cramping up something fierce."
"Really? Ok. Let me take a look." She takes a peek and says, "Yep. Time to push. Someone go get the doc."
"Time to push?!?!? You got that from a cramp in my ass?!?!" I couldn't believe that the pain in my ass was my kid getting ready to meet me.
Not 45 minutes later, Shank appeared and in grand style. Shank not only took a crap on the way out, but took a crap so big it created a slip and slide effect and shot poo way across the room. You know it's bad when even the medical staff goes, "Whoa". Now, the plan had been to hand me Shank right out of the shoot, but since there was enough poop to power a small factory, they rushed Shank over to a table to start working and cleaning. The crying started pretty soon after that, but still no one told me if I had a boy or a girl. Finally, Nicole, tears in her eyes and in full sob, said, "it's a girl!" Huh?!?!? Really? A girl? Are you sure? I don't want anyone to take that reaction the wrong way b/c I was ABSOLUTELY THRILLED BEYOND WORDS to have a daughter, but I had been absolutely CONVINCED that I was having a boy.
I was wrong. Instead, Nicole and I were blessed with an absolutely gorgeous, perfect little girl. She was born on February 4, 2010 at 1:06 pm. She weighed 7 lbs 12 oz and was 20" long. And did I mention that she is perfect.
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