Time to play catch up before the culmination if you haven’t stopped by yet this week.
HEADS UP. This one gets a little personal. Possibly gross, depending on your delicate sensibilities.
Sorry to say there is no Big A commentary on this one, if you’ve been enjoying his input. He said he had nothing to add and that this was my story even though he was THERE. And this being, in fact, HALF HIS KID, TOO. But whatever. He did say it looked like my vagina was blowing a bubble. There is that. But he didn’t want to tell y’all that. But I just did. I have zero shame.
It’s Go Time.
I am in position. They are giving me instructions. I’m trying not to flip out. OB tells me that on the next contraction, we’ll do a practice round.
I practice push. And the OB’s eyes sort of bug out. Because apparently I don’t practice. I just $#^@ing go for it. And that practice push became my first real I’M HAVING A BABY WTF push.
One, two, three. four, five, six. No vacuum needed.
JUST THAT FAST. We are now the proud owner of a newborn.
Six minutes. Six pushes. Three contractions. Apparently a little poo.
AND A BABY.
Apologies if that’s anti-climactic. It is what it is. I can’t help that he whooshed on out of there.
Six pounds, nineteen inches, a tiny little thing with a big head and chubby cheeks.
He was healthy, pink, screaming and scored a 9 on that Apgar scale thing, already an overachiever. He also lacked that ugly newborn look and was NOT A CONEHEAD. He got bonus points for those things. I may have sent him back otherwise.
Just minutes old. Hard to believe that was living in me.
They put the cheesy, sticky thing on my chest, Big A cut the cord (they called the cord “chewy” and for whatever reason, that cracked my $^@& up). I was tired and confused and hungry and emotional and overwhelmed and I found it hard to open my eyes to look at him. This being that had been making my body his home for months was now a part of the real world. MY world. OUR world. I wasn’t sure what to expect and I had thought so much about what he would look like that I almost couldn’t look at him.
The nurse asked me if I had even seen him yet.
I said I had. Briefly. And then admitted babies freaked me out.
And they laughed at me. This was becoming a theme.
As the OB was stitching me up – because while there was no episiotomy, there was a significant tear that I definitely was not aware of because I really couldn’t feel feelings – she kept telling me she couldn’t believe how fast that went and that I was designed to have babies. And even in that moment I totally agreed with her. And was already thinking about the second one.
She took that opportunity to remind me that breastfeeding was not birth control.
So why do people complain about this!? Pregnancy, labor AND delivery were all a giant piece of cake! (Note: Dudes, I totally know I got off beyond easy.) I was willing to go through all that @#%^ again in a hot minute. I loved being pregnant. Loved. What I wasn’t sure about was actual motherhood. I was sure I wanted cake.
The nurse started to chime in, telling me that I did awesome and she wasn’t just saying that to be nice. I began to wonder if I had set a new hospital record or something. I’m sure I chuckled but I was still in a deep haze of confusion. I was also trying not to think about what a mangled mess my underworld probably was.
I asked if I could eat. Food was a definite priority here. I got laughed at again.
I happened to look down and was shocked to see the lack of the bump I had grown so fond of. Well, DUH. I was warned that I probably shouldn’t let the other new moms in recovery see me as I seemed to lack the I-was-just-pregnant look. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for being awesome and basked in all these accolades.
See, he got cuter already! Except for the crazy Vitamin K eye goo.
As everyone was finishing up their duties, I held Little A again before he was taken to the nursery and was told that the meds I was so delightfully enjoying would be cut and to take a few extra hits if necessary. So I did. You know, just in case. I was also given a menu and I gleefully selected the first food I would shove in my facehole in over 18 hours.
My desired food after 18 hours without? Chicken Alfredo, Onion Rings, Apple Pie, Coke. WHAT. DON’T JUDGE ME.
I can’t feel my legs, I have an ice pack in my underwear, I’m exhausted, I am ravenous, I am suddenly svelte again.
And I have a baby.
I JUST HAD A !@#%@ING BABY.