Monthly Archives: November 2009

My Labor Story

…or the things you never learn from the movies.

I have been attempting to write a coherent and not boring post about the birth of my daughter since Thursday. Trouble is, I don’t think anyone out there really wants to hear all the gory details of my labor and delivery. So, here are the highlights.
  • Apparently, food poisoning can send you into labor. I ate a bad can of soup Thursday night, threw up and then started having frequent if somewhat irregular contractions.
  • Pregnancy assessment is the devil. I was there Friday night with contractions about 4 minutes apart but got sent home because there hadn’t been any change in my cervix since I had gotten there. And then on Saturday, when we went back and my contractions had gotten worse, they tried to send me home twice but I refused because I think I knew it was going to be that night.
  • Also, how depressing is pregnancy assessment? It’s a tiny room with a very uncomfortable bed that has extremely sketchy floral wallpaper.
  • When they break your water, did you know that it feels like you peed yourself? And then during subsequent contractions it continues to feel like your peeing yourself?
  • No matter how badly I didn’t want to get an epidural (another random fact, they have to give you a catheter when you get an epidural because not only can you not feel your legs but you also have no concept of whether or not you need to pee), when I was screaming in pain because oh my god this whole breathing through a contraction shit is not working, I will break down.
  • Fifteen minutes after they finished giving me the epidural – which they had to do twice because the anesthesiologist didn’t place it quite right the first time – I was fully dilated and ready to push. What. The. Fuck? Didn’t even have a time to give me a catheter. Yes! Those things freak me out.
  • That whole you push for like twenty minutes and then your done is a complete lie. I pushed for approximately two and a half hours. It was probably made harder because I couldn’t feel anything from the waist down except for some horrible pressure in my hips and the urge to poop myself.
  • It was all worth it. At 2:24 am on November 8th, Lorelei Jane was brought into the world and she is perfect.
She is fifteen days old and I can still just lie there staring at her for hours. I didn’t think it was possible for me to love someone as much as I love her.


Long winded posts are probably coming soon; so, to my (two) dear readers: keep your eyes out for that. Right now I just want to share that I am completely pooped. Lorelei turned 4 days old this morning and it has been a busy and extremely rough four days. Newborns are hard. Anyhoodle. Here’s a picture of the sweet baby.

At Least Buy Me a Drink First

The weird and, let’s face it, annoying part of being pregnant is that suddenly a woman’s body is public property. Everyone is always up in your business and strangers think it’s totally okay to touch your stomach. Now, I don’t mind too much when people touch me if I know them. Husband? He better like touching my stomach or he’s gonna get punched. Friends? Naturally. Former co-workers? Sure, I guess. My baristas at Borders? Well, I’m pretty attached to them since they are the providers of caffeine; so, if they really wanted to. Random strangers in the mall? Absolutely not. Fortunately this only happened once and, at least, she only rubbed my arm and said how good I looked and didn’t touch my stomach but still. Not. Okay.

Also. Random people need to stop asking me when I’m due. I get one of two responses when I tell them. “You look so small still.” Oh really. Try carting around 30 extra pounds all of which is centered in one small part of the body on top of my pre-existing back problems and sciatica and then tell me I look small. The other, more surprising one is, “Are you sure there is only one in there?” Yeah. Way to make a pregnant woman feel good about herself. Fortunately, this only happens when I’m wearing my sweatpants which do nothing to hide my enormous belly unlike all my other pants which have this weird slimming effect. Hmmm. Maybe I should stop wearing sweatpants in public.

Yeah right.

And then there are the doctors. Warning: I’m about to talk about my OB appointments. If you are in any way squeamish about this or just don’t want to know: stop reading right now.

I go to a group practice. This means that there are five or six doctors who I see on a rotating basis. As nice as it would be to only see one doctor and build some sort of relationship with them, it would be very unlikely that they would be the one to deliver baby. One person cannot be in Labor & Delivery 24 hours a day and I would at least like to know who the doctor is when I deliver. Up until last week, I had met all but one of them. And wouldn’t you know it, I have entered the phase of them checking my cervix every time I’m there. Hoo boy. Is that fun or what? So, this was the first time I was meeting this doctor and after about five minutes its like, okay, now I’m going to check out your lady parts. Umm. Hi. Shouldn’t you at least buy me a drink first? And apparently, when I’m in labor, there will be random nurses who will be doing the same thing. Seeing as I’m sharing the same body with another living being, can my lady bits at least be somewhat off limits? I guess that would make delivery somewhat more difficult.

Just two more weeks…

38 Weeks

Does anyone know what a beached whale sounds like? Well, that’s how I feel and I need to know so I can make that noise whenever I try to roll over in bed. Almost there (I hope).

What Keeps Me Up at Night

The questions I ask:

  • What do giraffes look like when they hiccup?
  • Do you think a giraffe burp will lose steam half way up the neck so all you hear is a tiny *brap*?
  • How do elephants blow their nose? Do you think they stick their trunk in their mouth and then suck the snot out?
  • If an elephant trumpets and snot comes out accidentally hitting his elephant buddy, do you think they get into a snot fight?
Yeah. I’m weird.