Now THEY Are Six

When they were babies, we thought it was the hardest time of our lives. Two babies felt like ten babies and the sleep deprivation was epic.


We didn't know the challenges and obstacles that had been laid like mines in their little brains, waiting to go off and teach us the meaning of the word HARD.



It has not been a fast six years.


But you know what? They are a joy really. They are funny. They are learning to talk. And today is the special day that they became part of our family.


No matter what, we are so happy they are here.

Happy Birthday Miles and Charlie. We love you so.

Now THEY Are Six

When they were babies, we thought it was the hardest time of our lives. Two babies felt like ten babies and the sleep deprivation was epic.


We didn't know the challenges and obstacles that had been laid like mines in their little brains, waiting to go off and teach us the meaning of the word HARD.



It has not been a fast six years.


But you know what? They are a joy really. They are funny. They are learning to talk. And today is the special day that they became part of our family.


No matter what, we are so happy they are here.

Happy Birthday Miles and Charlie. We love you so.

Thursday Was Better

A nap on Wednesday pretty much changed my world, oddly. I woke up three hours later, had lunch of London Broil and truly felt like a different person. Yeah I still had pain and discomfort but really the percocet was keeping it deep enough that I could think and function.



And on Thursday....we got to go home.

Needless to say, there were some short people who were terribly excited to have her at home.
The big boy also was made student of the week the day she came home, and got to bring home the class mascot - so he was pretty much having a banner day all around.

The twins were divided in their opinion regarding the addition of this new human to the clan. While Baby Birdman was dismissive of her, probably jealous.........his brother was a total gigglebox and at one point got the boppy and positioned himself on the sofa - clearly waiting his turn to hold the baby. So of course we obliged.

And I know I was an emo mess and pretty much in full flip out mode recounting Monday-Wednesday of this event. But I did want to share something beautiful from Monday.....the day she was born.

This bloomed on my rose bush. I tried to hold onto the idea of it as a good omen. (I failed). But obviously, I was right.

I survived.

Thursday Was Better

A nap on Wednesday pretty much changed my world, oddly. I woke up three hours later, had lunch of London Broil and truly felt like a different person. Yeah I still had pain and discomfort but really the percocet was keeping it deep enough that I could think and function.



And on Thursday....we got to go home.

Needless to say, there were some short people who were terribly excited to have her at home.
The big boy also was made student of the week the day she came home, and got to bring home the class mascot - so he was pretty much having a banner day all around.

The twins were divided in their opinion regarding the addition of this new human to the clan. While Baby Birdman was dismissive of her, probably jealous.........his brother was a total gigglebox and at one point got the boppy and positioned himself on the sofa - clearly waiting his turn to hold the baby. So of course we obliged.

And I know I was an emo mess and pretty much in full flip out mode recounting Monday-Wednesday of this event. But I did want to share something beautiful from Monday.....the day she was born.

This bloomed on my rose bush. I tried to hold onto the idea of it as a good omen. (I failed). But obviously, I was right.

I survived.

Wednesday's Child Is Full of Woe

Tuesday night into Wednesday I couldn't sleep. They left the baby with me, which really was rather pointless in my opinion. I could barely get up or down still, but the night nursing staff was totally into the "OH YOU ARE GETTING SO MUCH BETTER WE'RE GONNA LEAVE YOU ON YOUR OWN!" routine. So there we were, she and I....stumbling through the night. I woke up every time she squeaked, every time a door opened and shut in the hall, every time the ice machine which sounded as though it was right outside my door. Every time I looked at the clock only twenty minutes or so had passed.
Eventually the sun came up and breakfast rolled in, at the same time as the baby wanted to nurse. I let my food get cold as I struggled with nursing her, none of my kids have ever nursed. They just hate it and act insane. I was determined to get her to nurse, however. At about this point the lactation consultant breezed in - mumbled about how EASY breastfeeding is, took a look at my nipples and gave me a nipple shield to use to make them more baby friendly.
Of course, while she stood there, using the nipple shield the baby nursed immediately.
"SEE?" she says and leaves.
The second she leaves the baby starts screaming and going nuts.
I tried and tried for 30 minutes and then said fuck it and gave her a bottle out of the bassinet and she promptly fell back to sleep.
After eating my ice cold breakfast and struggled to the bathroom HALLELUJAH I CAN PEE and then struggled back, fighting against the lethargy that seemed to fill my legs. I was also in a lot more pain this morning, which I couldn't figure out. I knew that they had woken me up for pills in the night. But my hips and abdomen hurt like hell.
The baby was asleep so I thought maybe I would try to sleep. Right about when I was going to drift off - the lady from the birth certificate office showed up. She left, then the photographer showed up. She left, then the lady who wanted some blood showed up.
Then I had to pee again.
Sigh......seriously, everything hurts, I'm so tired.........and as stated previously, the bathroom was AT LEAST 8 FEET AWAY. My hips didn't want to move. My right leg had a cramp. And GOD my abdomen hurt. So I struggled to the bathroom and back, and right about then, Nurse Meg came in.
She was cheery and sweet, and reminded me a lot of my first night nurse. Apparently I now HAD to shower (ok I was pretty gross, this wasn't the WORST idea) and she got me towels and told me to call her when I was done because she had to apply some sort of crap to my incision.

So I found my nightgown from home, and all my shampoo and stuff and took it all to the bathroom.....and then turned on the shower.

Except, I couldn't get the SHOWER to come on. Just the tub faucet. So I mess around with the levers, and all the things on the faucet apparatus that appear to BE the thing that would make the shower work. It hurts like hell to be bending over to figure this out.

Eventually I get light headed and stumble BACK to my bed and hit the nurse call button. I was feeling pretty much in control when I hit it....I was thinking, I'll just ask someone to show me how it works......no big deal. They're all different they won't think this is stupid..............

and the nurse answered and I just started sobbing. "I can't work the shower."

Nurse Meg to the rescue. She came in and took my hands and asked me what was wrong and I just unloaded. Everything was too hard, everything hurts too much, I can't work the shower, no one will leave me alone, I just want to sleep, I can't take care of the baby, people are too noisy outside, I HATE THIS............................and I just sobbed and sobbed and I'm fairly sure I looked like a maniac, a maniac who hadn't showered since Monday Morning.

She and another nurse took me to the bathroom, fired up the shower - AND GAVE ME A SHOWER. That's right. I was officially a freaking invalid as now people had to bathe me. They washed my hair and cleaned me up and then Nurse Meg put my nightgown from home on me and I'm gonna admit, yeah I cried the whole time.
Then Nurse Meg lowered my bed, put me into it and tucked me in tight, like a little kid. She pulled the drapes and told the other nurse to take the baby to the nursery. After checking my chart she told me that we'd missed a round of painkillers in the night and promptly gave them to me. She turned off my phone and moved it out of my reach and said "Nap, three hours. You are exhausted and absolutely need to sleep. I will be back in three hours to see how you are. I am not allowing any visitors or any staff in to see you for three hours. Go to sleep now. Hit the nurse call if you need me."

I lay there and didn't even protest. I hate laying down wet headed but I didn't mind. I closed my eyes and let sleep just roll over me and it was like the best drug ever.

Somebody again tell me how much easier this is than vaginal delivery............

Wednesday's Child Is Full of Woe

Tuesday night into Wednesday I couldn't sleep. They left the baby with me, which really was rather pointless in my opinion. I could barely get up or down still, but the night nursing staff was totally into the "OH YOU ARE GETTING SO MUCH BETTER WE'RE GONNA LEAVE YOU ON YOUR OWN!" routine. So there we were, she and I....stumbling through the night. I woke up every time she squeaked, every time a door opened and shut in the hall, every time the ice machine which sounded as though it was right outside my door. Every time I looked at the clock only twenty minutes or so had passed.
Eventually the sun came up and breakfast rolled in, at the same time as the baby wanted to nurse. I let my food get cold as I struggled with nursing her, none of my kids have ever nursed. They just hate it and act insane. I was determined to get her to nurse, however. At about this point the lactation consultant breezed in - mumbled about how EASY breastfeeding is, took a look at my nipples and gave me a nipple shield to use to make them more baby friendly.
Of course, while she stood there, using the nipple shield the baby nursed immediately.
"SEE?" she says and leaves.
The second she leaves the baby starts screaming and going nuts.
I tried and tried for 30 minutes and then said fuck it and gave her a bottle out of the bassinet and she promptly fell back to sleep.
After eating my ice cold breakfast and struggled to the bathroom HALLELUJAH I CAN PEE and then struggled back, fighting against the lethargy that seemed to fill my legs. I was also in a lot more pain this morning, which I couldn't figure out. I knew that they had woken me up for pills in the night. But my hips and abdomen hurt like hell.
The baby was asleep so I thought maybe I would try to sleep. Right about when I was going to drift off - the lady from the birth certificate office showed up. She left, then the photographer showed up. She left, then the lady who wanted some blood showed up.
Then I had to pee again.
Sigh......seriously, everything hurts, I'm so tired.........and as stated previously, the bathroom was AT LEAST 8 FEET AWAY. My hips didn't want to move. My right leg had a cramp. And GOD my abdomen hurt. So I struggled to the bathroom and back, and right about then, Nurse Meg came in.
She was cheery and sweet, and reminded me a lot of my first night nurse. Apparently I now HAD to shower (ok I was pretty gross, this wasn't the WORST idea) and she got me towels and told me to call her when I was done because she had to apply some sort of crap to my incision.

So I found my nightgown from home, and all my shampoo and stuff and took it all to the bathroom.....and then turned on the shower.

Except, I couldn't get the SHOWER to come on. Just the tub faucet. So I mess around with the levers, and all the things on the faucet apparatus that appear to BE the thing that would make the shower work. It hurts like hell to be bending over to figure this out.

Eventually I get light headed and stumble BACK to my bed and hit the nurse call button. I was feeling pretty much in control when I hit it....I was thinking, I'll just ask someone to show me how it works......no big deal. They're all different they won't think this is stupid..............

and the nurse answered and I just started sobbing. "I can't work the shower."

Nurse Meg to the rescue. She came in and took my hands and asked me what was wrong and I just unloaded. Everything was too hard, everything hurts too much, I can't work the shower, no one will leave me alone, I just want to sleep, I can't take care of the baby, people are too noisy outside, I HATE THIS............................and I just sobbed and sobbed and I'm fairly sure I looked like a maniac, a maniac who hadn't showered since Monday Morning.

She and another nurse took me to the bathroom, fired up the shower - AND GAVE ME A SHOWER. That's right. I was officially a freaking invalid as now people had to bathe me. They washed my hair and cleaned me up and then Nurse Meg put my nightgown from home on me and I'm gonna admit, yeah I cried the whole time.
Then Nurse Meg lowered my bed, put me into it and tucked me in tight, like a little kid. She pulled the drapes and told the other nurse to take the baby to the nursery. After checking my chart she told me that we'd missed a round of painkillers in the night and promptly gave them to me. She turned off my phone and moved it out of my reach and said "Nap, three hours. You are exhausted and absolutely need to sleep. I will be back in three hours to see how you are. I am not allowing any visitors or any staff in to see you for three hours. Go to sleep now. Hit the nurse call if you need me."

I lay there and didn't even protest. I hate laying down wet headed but I didn't mind. I closed my eyes and let sleep just roll over me and it was like the best drug ever.

Somebody again tell me how much easier this is than vaginal delivery............

And Then Came Tuesday

Before I rant about my Tuesday, I should probably say that there was something really really nice on Monday that I left out. We have this family tradition that I think is fairly wonderful which we do on your birthday.
Your real birthday.

The day of your birth.

We have a party.

That's right. We sing and have presents and everything! So here she is, Miss Julia on the day of her birth. She likes to party down.

But that night I didn't enjoy life much, as previously mentioned.

The next morning I had this huge breakfast which I actually ate. I swear it might've been the best, fluffiest bagel in Christendom (there is humor in that statement). I felt like I might be sort of ok.

But then they came and made me get out of the damned bed again to go to the bathroom. And of course I couldn't pee. The bathroom was amazingly far away from my bed as well. Seriously. Ok it wasn't. But they weren't HELPING me this time, apparently we'd moved into "You're a big girl YOU CAN DO IT!" phase of recovery which I personally was against.

The day was fairly uneventful, I had some visitors whom I probably drooled on or rambled aimlessly - I'm not sure. I feel certain the latter is true.

It was evening when things got a bit wonky.

My nurse came again to get me out of the bed, to make the long trek to the bathroom - I swear it might've been like, 8 feet from my bed. That's like 30 or 40 steps in "Gidge recovery land." While I was enjoying the scenery in my bathroom, and hearing about how I should have a shower (whatever, bite me - I can't even sit on the toilet without almost falling off) a code alarm sounded. My nurse says "STAY HERE I WILL BE RIGHT BACK" and runs off.

And then she stayed gone.

So I'm sitting there on the toilet.....leaning on the wall, wondering when she is coming back....as time passes. More time passes. And more. And more. And more. I start to feel a little otherworldly. As in - there is an OTHER world and I am now on it.

I wonder if they mind if you show up with your mesh surgery panties down around your ankles in Other World...........

....anyway at some point - roughly 20 minutes later or more, a different nurse shows up, issuing apologies and helping me to my feet and to get my panties up which I can't bend over to get and that's sort of annoying. I've been pulling up my own panties since I was at least two.

As we start walking back that 8 feet to my bed I told her "I feel funny......something is wrong......" and at that moment......I start this insane breathing which I couldn't control. I would describe it as my lungs went insane,and started sucking in deep deep breaths and I couldn't stop. I was making this horrible noise when I was breathing,almost like coughing and breathing......and the nurse is looking at me like I'm crazy and I managed to say "I CAN'T BREATHE........" and wham SHE hits the code button and suddenly there are 5 nurses in my room.

My blood pressure had bottomed out - and it starts out low btw. And I was hyperventilating (so THAT is what that's like). The did some mumbojumbo with my head and the bed,dropping it below my heart, and slapped an oxygen mask on me and I just kind of zoned out while they hooked up monitors.

I have to admit, I'd had this terrible anxiety about the surgery, fearing something was going to go wrong. The surgery had come and gone and it was all ok..........and when this started happening, as they put me down on to the bed the first thing that my brain did was go "Oh, here is where it goes wrong........" and I was wondering if I was throwing a clot or having a fucking aneurysm or what. And I wondered if all people who have them get to wonder such things with detachment right before they die or become vegetables or whatever.

Clearly I got spared that drama....and was better within minutes as my blood pressure came back up.

But the cadre of nurses wasn't done with me. OH NO. See - they then decided they had to know if I had actually peed during my tenure on the toilet. And, in my fully oxygenated head rush, I told the truth and said no.

AH /FAIL - it's been too long since surgery, now we have to cath you!

Yeah, catheter. OMG why do those fucking things hurt so much. I was thinking, as they were torturing my lady parts, that merely minutes before, I had been considering that I might be dying - and now they are jamming a probe into my girl bits to drain out the pee. They were telling me, as I was crying, that it hurts men far worse. Bully for them. Sorry to hear it boys.

They informed me, when the torture squad was done, that my pee was like "amber gel" which is a phrase that makes me a bit sick to consider. I got a pitcher of water to drink before I could go to sleep and orders to drink more.

I'd drink my weight to avoid another fucking catheter. I swear to god . That goes for my entire life.

Yeah, c-section is easier. I can see that now. Sure. This has been GREAT SO FAR.

And Then Came Tuesday

Before I rant about my Tuesday, I should probably say that there was something really really nice on Monday that I left out. We have this family tradition that I think is fairly wonderful which we do on your birthday.
Your real birthday.

The day of your birth.

We have a party.

That's right. We sing and have presents and everything! So here she is, Miss Julia on the day of her birth. She likes to party down.

But that night I didn't enjoy life much, as previously mentioned.

The next morning I had this huge breakfast which I actually ate. I swear it might've been the best, fluffiest bagel in Christendom (there is humor in that statement). I felt like I might be sort of ok.

But then they came and made me get out of the damned bed again to go to the bathroom. And of course I couldn't pee. The bathroom was amazingly far away from my bed as well. Seriously. Ok it wasn't. But they weren't HELPING me this time, apparently we'd moved into "You're a big girl YOU CAN DO IT!" phase of recovery which I personally was against.

The day was fairly uneventful, I had some visitors whom I probably drooled on or rambled aimlessly - I'm not sure. I feel certain the latter is true.

It was evening when things got a bit wonky.

My nurse came again to get me out of the bed, to make the long trek to the bathroom - I swear it might've been like, 8 feet from my bed. That's like 30 or 40 steps in "Gidge recovery land." While I was enjoying the scenery in my bathroom, and hearing about how I should have a shower (whatever, bite me - I can't even sit on the toilet without almost falling off) a code alarm sounded. My nurse says "STAY HERE I WILL BE RIGHT BACK" and runs off.

And then she stayed gone.

So I'm sitting there on the toilet.....leaning on the wall, wondering when she is coming back....as time passes. More time passes. And more. And more. And more. I start to feel a little otherworldly. As in - there is an OTHER world and I am now on it.

I wonder if they mind if you show up with your mesh surgery panties down around your ankles in Other World...........

....anyway at some point - roughly 20 minutes later or more, a different nurse shows up, issuing apologies and helping me to my feet and to get my panties up which I can't bend over to get and that's sort of annoying. I've been pulling up my own panties since I was at least two.

As we start walking back that 8 feet to my bed I told her "I feel funny......something is wrong......" and at that moment......I start this insane breathing which I couldn't control. I would describe it as my lungs went insane,and started sucking in deep deep breaths and I couldn't stop. I was making this horrible noise when I was breathing,almost like coughing and breathing......and the nurse is looking at me like I'm crazy and I managed to say "I CAN'T BREATHE........" and wham SHE hits the code button and suddenly there are 5 nurses in my room.

My blood pressure had bottomed out - and it starts out low btw. And I was hyperventilating (so THAT is what that's like). The did some mumbojumbo with my head and the bed,dropping it below my heart, and slapped an oxygen mask on me and I just kind of zoned out while they hooked up monitors.

I have to admit, I'd had this terrible anxiety about the surgery, fearing something was going to go wrong. The surgery had come and gone and it was all ok..........and when this started happening, as they put me down on to the bed the first thing that my brain did was go "Oh, here is where it goes wrong........" and I was wondering if I was throwing a clot or having a fucking aneurysm or what. And I wondered if all people who have them get to wonder such things with detachment right before they die or become vegetables or whatever.

Clearly I got spared that drama....and was better within minutes as my blood pressure came back up.

But the cadre of nurses wasn't done with me. OH NO. See - they then decided they had to know if I had actually peed during my tenure on the toilet. And, in my fully oxygenated head rush, I told the truth and said no.

AH /FAIL - it's been too long since surgery, now we have to cath you!

Yeah, catheter. OMG why do those fucking things hurt so much. I was thinking, as they were torturing my lady parts, that merely minutes before, I had been considering that I might be dying - and now they are jamming a probe into my girl bits to drain out the pee. They were telling me, as I was crying, that it hurts men far worse. Bully for them. Sorry to hear it boys.

They informed me, when the torture squad was done, that my pee was like "amber gel" which is a phrase that makes me a bit sick to consider. I got a pitcher of water to drink before I could go to sleep and orders to drink more.

I'd drink my weight to avoid another fucking catheter. I swear to god . That goes for my entire life.

Yeah, c-section is easier. I can see that now. Sure. This has been GREAT SO FAR.

Recovery and First Night

When I woke up in recovery, it was unlike any other "coming out of anesthesia" experience I've ever had. Possibly because I'd never had Versed before. Normally I've had the slow wake up, the first I can hear - then I can see, then I can think, then I can consider speech, then I can say HI to the nurse watching me so she knows I'm in there......sort of thing.
This time, it was like waking up from sleep. I opened my eyes and saw my nurse adjusting my IV bag or doing something to it and I said Hi. She smiled and asked me how I felt, and I told her "Like crap."
Which sort of wasn't true. I didn't actually feel like ANYTHING. Just sort of - detached. She told me I'd been in recovery about 10 minutes and that I was doing great and everything had gone really well.
She gave me some ice chips off of a spoon and then DOCTOR SHOUTING came in and shook my feet and asked me if I could move them. I said no, and he smiled and shouted something about that being normal and moved on.
My OB came through and again muttered reassurances of how WELL it had gone and that the baby was very healthy and everything looked wonderful. He said he'd see me tomorrow and went on his way smiling.
Then my Mom called.
In all fairness, she thought she'd just get to talk to a nurse to see how I was doing. But at a high tech hospital with lots of mobile phones, they just brought the phone back to me.
I remember thinking that it was very odd to hold a phone when I couldn't feel over half my body. I had a very mumbly conversation with my mom and then my nurse said that after the machine read one more blood pressure I was gonna go to my room.

They drove me up on the bed, me just sort of watching it all bizarrely.....even as they hoisted me into the other bed using this roller thing like I was some giant fish carcass. I was tucked in and then a nurse came in to check on me.....and she said a bunch of stuff about getting out of bed and while she was talking I fell asleep.

When I woke it was after 3pm - and I realized.....the baby had been born between 12:30 and 1pm- and I had not seen her. I hit the nurse call button and asked if I could please see my baby.

And of course, started to cry. I mean - what if it'd been to long? What if she didn't KNOW me because we missed those first few bonding minutes after birth? What if they brought me the wrong baby? How would I know it was even my baby?

They brought her to me, and I instantly knew this baby. I gave birth to her seven years ago and she was a boy that time. She SMELLED like my baby,despite the baby wash. I held her for hours until the night nurse came on duty and wanted me to rest and took her to the nursery.

My night nurse was like, your mom and Mary Poppins and Miss Congeniality and I don't know what else. I almost wonder if they don't specially give her to the c-section patients that first night.......she was that comforting. She came in to tell me that at 1am my epidural had to come out, and explained all the things we would do to manage my pain. She covered all the things that she was going to do at 1am - one thing of which was make me walk to the bathroom. And then she let me go to sleep.

Then 1am came. She detached all my hoses and wires and hook ups including my catheter but thank god she took that out WHILE the epidural was still in. Then she sat me up and gave me some fruit juice and rubbed my legs to make sure I had feeling.

Then - to the bathroom.

She put her arms around me and walked me to the restroom - and very carefully had me sit on the toilet where I could NOT pee at all, hell I couldn't think much less pee.

Now, this is the part where you know that you've simply lost all your modesty and dignity - as a stranger gets between your legs with a hot water bottle and starts hosing you down and cleaning up your crotch - and you don't even care. Seriously, the only thought I was having was "Wow, thank you for doing such a gross thing for me."

Then she put me into the lovely mesh panties that all veteran moms are familiar with and put me into bed, and told me she'd be back in 4 hours with more pain meds.

The first night, well it was a haze. Surreal. There was a baby. Then they took her the to the nursery and there was just a parade of medical stuff being done to me.

The next morning when I woke up, I truly did feel like crap.

I suppose that's to be expected.

Recovery and First Night

When I woke up in recovery, it was unlike any other "coming out of anesthesia" experience I've ever had. Possibly because I'd never had Versed before. Normally I've had the slow wake up, the first I can hear - then I can see, then I can think, then I can consider speech, then I can say HI to the nurse watching me so she knows I'm in there......sort of thing.
This time, it was like waking up from sleep. I opened my eyes and saw my nurse adjusting my IV bag or doing something to it and I said Hi. She smiled and asked me how I felt, and I told her "Like crap."
Which sort of wasn't true. I didn't actually feel like ANYTHING. Just sort of - detached. She told me I'd been in recovery about 10 minutes and that I was doing great and everything had gone really well.
She gave me some ice chips off of a spoon and then DOCTOR SHOUTING came in and shook my feet and asked me if I could move them. I said no, and he smiled and shouted something about that being normal and moved on.
My OB came through and again muttered reassurances of how WELL it had gone and that the baby was very healthy and everything looked wonderful. He said he'd see me tomorrow and went on his way smiling.
Then my Mom called.
In all fairness, she thought she'd just get to talk to a nurse to see how I was doing. But at a high tech hospital with lots of mobile phones, they just brought the phone back to me.
I remember thinking that it was very odd to hold a phone when I couldn't feel over half my body. I had a very mumbly conversation with my mom and then my nurse said that after the machine read one more blood pressure I was gonna go to my room.

They drove me up on the bed, me just sort of watching it all bizarrely.....even as they hoisted me into the other bed using this roller thing like I was some giant fish carcass. I was tucked in and then a nurse came in to check on me.....and she said a bunch of stuff about getting out of bed and while she was talking I fell asleep.

When I woke it was after 3pm - and I realized.....the baby had been born between 12:30 and 1pm- and I had not seen her. I hit the nurse call button and asked if I could please see my baby.

And of course, started to cry. I mean - what if it'd been to long? What if she didn't KNOW me because we missed those first few bonding minutes after birth? What if they brought me the wrong baby? How would I know it was even my baby?

They brought her to me, and I instantly knew this baby. I gave birth to her seven years ago and she was a boy that time. She SMELLED like my baby,despite the baby wash. I held her for hours until the night nurse came on duty and wanted me to rest and took her to the nursery.

My night nurse was like, your mom and Mary Poppins and Miss Congeniality and I don't know what else. I almost wonder if they don't specially give her to the c-section patients that first night.......she was that comforting. She came in to tell me that at 1am my epidural had to come out, and explained all the things we would do to manage my pain. She covered all the things that she was going to do at 1am - one thing of which was make me walk to the bathroom. And then she let me go to sleep.

Then 1am came. She detached all my hoses and wires and hook ups including my catheter but thank god she took that out WHILE the epidural was still in. Then she sat me up and gave me some fruit juice and rubbed my legs to make sure I had feeling.

Then - to the bathroom.

She put her arms around me and walked me to the restroom - and very carefully had me sit on the toilet where I could NOT pee at all, hell I couldn't think much less pee.

Now, this is the part where you know that you've simply lost all your modesty and dignity - as a stranger gets between your legs with a hot water bottle and starts hosing you down and cleaning up your crotch - and you don't even care. Seriously, the only thought I was having was "Wow, thank you for doing such a gross thing for me."

Then she put me into the lovely mesh panties that all veteran moms are familiar with and put me into bed, and told me she'd be back in 4 hours with more pain meds.

The first night, well it was a haze. Surreal. There was a baby. Then they took her the to the nursery and there was just a parade of medical stuff being done to me.

The next morning when I woke up, I truly did feel like crap.

I suppose that's to be expected.

Now We Are Six

I am just able to sit up properly in a chair for an extended period of time. I've had a couple people text me and say they couldn't wait to read me recounting the c-section and delivery.

I suppose it's attention hoaring to even go ahead and do it when there is this huge part of me that would rather put it aside and focus on the end result. It was painful, it was harrowing, it was the nightmare I expected and then some. It was undignified and terrifying and unpleasant on many levels.


But it's also kinda what I do, recounting the things that happen so.......I'm gonna do this in multiple parts. This way you can enjoy my pain and suffering in pieces, just like I did.

Monday morning we drove off to the hospital and I'll admit it. I wasn't joyous. I was some delicate combination of bitter and terrified. I can't tell you the extent to which I was furious at fate for forcing me to have this damned surgery. I totally appreciate that it was a WAY BETTER alternative than one of us ending up dead but still - I wasn't jolly or pleased. I couldn't smile.

I could barely talk or answer their fucking questions. I truthfully wanted to scream YOU MUTHERFUCKERS HAVE ASKED ME THIS BULLSHIT 20 FUCKING TIMES ALREADY YOU KNOW THE ANSWER NOW LETS JUST DO THIS.



But I didn't, I just clenched my teeth and tried to breathe.



We were greeted right before surgery by DOCTOR SHOUTING ANESTHESIOLOGIST. He apparently had to SHOUT HIS GREETINGS AND HIS ASSURANCE THAT ALL WOULD BE WELL.


I informed him that I had been promised Versed after the cord was cut, and he seemed a little taken back by that but said he'd order it up.


I had already told my OB multiple times, the anesthesiologist who did my pre-op and anyone else who would listen that I was about to fucking STROKE OUT over the entire event. I felt I had made it clear that anxiety and stress were not the appropriate terms for my fears over this event.


First off, they walked me into the operating room which looked surreal and like a horror show, and set me on the table for my epidural. It was during this time that DOCTOR SHOUTING ANESTHESIOLOGIST began to torture me with a hot metal wire that he drug up and down my spine. Now it wasn't hot probably, nor metal even. But that is how it felt, he couldn't get it placed and AFTER I GOT DONE SCREAMING SO LOUD MY HUSBAND DOWN THE HALL HEARD ME, he got it right. And then I started sobbing. I couldn't stop.

They kept asking me "What is wrong what is wrong?" and I couldn't even say words. I just cried as they laid me down and started strapping me down into position, shaking my body and attaching this and that, telling me what they were doing and I was still crying. I didn't even care.

My doctor came in and tried to turn the baby one more time,but she was too big to move. Onward to C - Section.

When they hung up the sheet I heard them call my husband in and right about then I had to puke. I could barely speak but the nurse anesthetist heard me and got me a lovely pink pail to puke in. Of course, when you can't control your diaphragm properly you can't actually puke. So there I am, spitting and having these awful retching movements uncontrollably but nothing is coming out. It was about that point that she put a cold cloth on my head and my husband snapped this pic.

I wish that I could've snapped a pic back. The nurse anesthetist was Indian or something - and quite beautiful. It should've been soothing, to look up at such a beautiful face but it wasn't - I could see the concern and worry across her eyes as she watched me losing control of my sanity.

Unknown to me that they were in full swing - that I was cut open and the show had started.....I felt some movement but thought that the nurses were still moving me around- I couldn't see anything beyond the curtain hanging in my face.

My mask started to make me hot, and the nurse was nice and would take it off intermittently.

But then I heard a saw.

Now, you and I both know that I didn't hear a saw. They even told me, it was a suction device. But - it SOUNDED like a saw. And I wasn't aware that I was all flayed open horribly.

Yeah that's really me getting worked on.

I might've calmed down about the saw, which I did rave about for a bit.....I was not convinced something horrible was happening except that next a giant fat man sat on my chest.

Yes that's right. A terrible weight came down on my chest and despite being SHOWN my pulse ox was fine - I couldn't stop my panic. I couldn't breathe. Someone had to be leaning on me. I just knew it. Right behind this fat man sitting on me - came this sensation of fire. Something was burning.

And I had to go.

That's right. I started telling them I was done, I had to go. I HAD TO GO NOW. And yeah, I was exactly that crazy. I vaguely remember saying "I can't do this I have to go I have to GO I have TO GO NOW" and hearing them calling for the Versed and my husband talking to the nurse anesthetist about that me being so scared - and asking if it was anxiety and verifying that I wasn't really feeling anything.

I could hear the baby screaming in the background - but it barely registered honestly. She was really loud, I heard them talking about her being big - VERY big. But it was just background noise as the crazy was gripping me hard.

What I can remember at this point is that he was telling me to close my eyes, which was pissing me off as I wasn't going to close my eyes when I WAS GOING TO LEAVE and also telling me that he was going to go (he had to pick our other kids up). It was getting on my nerves so I TOLD HIM TO JUST LEAVE THEN. But he was still there - and the baby was crying.......I remember that. My doctor started telling me jokes. Which was pissing me off.

I just remember this overwhelming feeling of panic, and fear as they were lowering my head and a comment made about "putting me back together."

And then I woke up in recovery.

Now We Are Six

I am just able to sit up properly in a chair for an extended period of time. I've had a couple people text me and say they couldn't wait to read me recounting the c-section and delivery.

I suppose it's attention hoaring to even go ahead and do it when there is this huge part of me that would rather put it aside and focus on the end result. It was painful, it was harrowing, it was the nightmare I expected and then some. It was undignified and terrifying and unpleasant on many levels.


But it's also kinda what I do, recounting the things that happen so.......I'm gonna do this in multiple parts. This way you can enjoy my pain and suffering in pieces, just like I did.

Monday morning we drove off to the hospital and I'll admit it. I wasn't joyous. I was some delicate combination of bitter and terrified. I can't tell you the extent to which I was furious at fate for forcing me to have this damned surgery. I totally appreciate that it was a WAY BETTER alternative than one of us ending up dead but still - I wasn't jolly or pleased. I couldn't smile.

I could barely talk or answer their fucking questions. I truthfully wanted to scream YOU MUTHERFUCKERS HAVE ASKED ME THIS BULLSHIT 20 FUCKING TIMES ALREADY YOU KNOW THE ANSWER NOW LETS JUST DO THIS.



But I didn't, I just clenched my teeth and tried to breathe.



We were greeted right before surgery by DOCTOR SHOUTING ANESTHESIOLOGIST. He apparently had to SHOUT HIS GREETINGS AND HIS ASSURANCE THAT ALL WOULD BE WELL.


I informed him that I had been promised Versed after the cord was cut, and he seemed a little taken back by that but said he'd order it up.


I had already told my OB multiple times, the anesthesiologist who did my pre-op and anyone else who would listen that I was about to fucking STROKE OUT over the entire event. I felt I had made it clear that anxiety and stress were not the appropriate terms for my fears over this event.


First off, they walked me into the operating room which looked surreal and like a horror show, and set me on the table for my epidural. It was during this time that DOCTOR SHOUTING ANESTHESIOLOGIST began to torture me with a hot metal wire that he drug up and down my spine. Now it wasn't hot probably, nor metal even. But that is how it felt, he couldn't get it placed and AFTER I GOT DONE SCREAMING SO LOUD MY HUSBAND DOWN THE HALL HEARD ME, he got it right. And then I started sobbing. I couldn't stop.

They kept asking me "What is wrong what is wrong?" and I couldn't even say words. I just cried as they laid me down and started strapping me down into position, shaking my body and attaching this and that, telling me what they were doing and I was still crying. I didn't even care.

My doctor came in and tried to turn the baby one more time,but she was too big to move. Onward to C - Section.

When they hung up the sheet I heard them call my husband in and right about then I had to puke. I could barely speak but the nurse anesthetist heard me and got me a lovely pink pail to puke in. Of course, when you can't control your diaphragm properly you can't actually puke. So there I am, spitting and having these awful retching movements uncontrollably but nothing is coming out. It was about that point that she put a cold cloth on my head and my husband snapped this pic.

I wish that I could've snapped a pic back. The nurse anesthetist was Indian or something - and quite beautiful. It should've been soothing, to look up at such a beautiful face but it wasn't - I could see the concern and worry across her eyes as she watched me losing control of my sanity.

Unknown to me that they were in full swing - that I was cut open and the show had started.....I felt some movement but thought that the nurses were still moving me around- I couldn't see anything beyond the curtain hanging in my face.

My mask started to make me hot, and the nurse was nice and would take it off intermittently.

But then I heard a saw.

Now, you and I both know that I didn't hear a saw. They even told me, it was a suction device. But - it SOUNDED like a saw. And I wasn't aware that I was all flayed open horribly.

Yeah that's really me getting worked on.

I might've calmed down about the saw, which I did rave about for a bit.....I was not convinced something horrible was happening except that next a giant fat man sat on my chest.

Yes that's right. A terrible weight came down on my chest and despite being SHOWN my pulse ox was fine - I couldn't stop my panic. I couldn't breathe. Someone had to be leaning on me. I just knew it. Right behind this fat man sitting on me - came this sensation of fire. Something was burning.

And I had to go.

That's right. I started telling them I was done, I had to go. I HAD TO GO NOW. And yeah, I was exactly that crazy. I vaguely remember saying "I can't do this I have to go I have to GO I have TO GO NOW" and hearing them calling for the Versed and my husband talking to the nurse anesthetist about that me being so scared - and asking if it was anxiety and verifying that I wasn't really feeling anything.

I could hear the baby screaming in the background - but it barely registered honestly. She was really loud, I heard them talking about her being big - VERY big. But it was just background noise as the crazy was gripping me hard.

What I can remember at this point is that he was telling me to close my eyes, which was pissing me off as I wasn't going to close my eyes when I WAS GOING TO LEAVE and also telling me that he was going to go (he had to pick our other kids up). It was getting on my nerves so I TOLD HIM TO JUST LEAVE THEN. But he was still there - and the baby was crying.......I remember that. My doctor started telling me jokes. Which was pissing me off.

I just remember this overwhelming feeling of panic, and fear as they were lowering my head and a comment made about "putting me back together."

And then I woke up in recovery.

...and Then My Husband Got Hit By a Car

So we meticulously plan our last DATE NIGHT before baby #4 arrives. We decide on going to Shogun for some Japanese deliciousness and then we'll go see Clash of the Titans in 3D which will probably be good EVEN WITHOUT Laurence Olivier.
I'm getting cute - and he runs over to Walmart to pick up some prescriptions for our little boy who has some ROCKIN allergies right now......and I get a call.
He's been hit.
BY A CAR.
WHILE WALKING THROUGH THE PARKING LOT.

So our good friend Emma arrives for our date, and learns that instead we're going to the ER. Off we go and she keeps the boys for a night of Emma filled fun.

I have to admit - I was worried. Visions of blunt force trauma injuries creating death and destruction were raging through my head.....and I sat in the waiting room after they took him for xrays- fretting and fretting and fretting. Why didn't they come? Why didn't they call me back?

Eventually he came out,and we spent our date at midnight at the Waffle House,where the cast of characters were very colorful -including the 18 year old cook who told us all about how he'd kicked his wife out of the house for cheating on him,and he may or may not have hit her. You know - it was like reality tv dinner theater.

Ok we didn't get our date. The timing sucks. But he's ok. So, I'm as happy as I can be.

Because it could have been so so so much worse.

...and Then My Husband Got Hit By a Car

So we meticulously plan our last DATE NIGHT before baby #4 arrives. We decide on going to Shogun for some Japanese deliciousness and then we'll go see Clash of the Titans in 3D which will probably be good EVEN WITHOUT Laurence Olivier.
I'm getting cute - and he runs over to Walmart to pick up some prescriptions for our little boy who has some ROCKIN allergies right now......and I get a call.
He's been hit.
BY A CAR.
WHILE WALKING THROUGH THE PARKING LOT.

So our good friend Emma arrives for our date, and learns that instead we're going to the ER. Off we go and she keeps the boys for a night of Emma filled fun.

I have to admit - I was worried. Visions of blunt force trauma injuries creating death and destruction were raging through my head.....and I sat in the waiting room after they took him for xrays- fretting and fretting and fretting. Why didn't they come? Why didn't they call me back?

Eventually he came out,and we spent our date at midnight at the Waffle House,where the cast of characters were very colorful -including the 18 year old cook who told us all about how he'd kicked his wife out of the house for cheating on him,and he may or may not have hit her. You know - it was like reality tv dinner theater.

Ok we didn't get our date. The timing sucks. But he's ok. So, I'm as happy as I can be.

Because it could have been so so so much worse.

There Is No Dignity in Labor and Delivery

Two nights ago I had some very lovely real deal contractions and after an hour of them, we whisked off the to hospital - convinced go time had arrived.
When I got back to triage - there was a nurse waiting for me with a big grin "You must be Bridgette -HI! I'm Kimberly's mom!"
Kimberly is my good friend from where I used to work.
So at first, I was like, OH HAI cool....someone who kinda knows me.

Here is what I didn't factor in. Her next statement:"Ok let's check your cervix."

I'm serious man. Did you ever meet someone's parent for the first time only to have them reach into your lady parts not ten minutes later and dig for your cervix? No? NOR SHOULD YOU. It's so feckin undignified.

I mean, I didn't even care at the time, I didn't process it till later because once you've had babies you know that no modesty and no dignity are part of the process when the contractions start. But still. HOW SURREAL.

The contractions slacked, slowed, got far far less on the magic machine that reads them and then the doctor got out of surgery and SHE came for a dig in my vag - ruled me dilated to two but not progressing so sent me home.

So I'm home. I'm doing pre-op today which I am sure will be hella good times right. I'll be meeting with anethesiology and beating them in the head about the drugs I want. ALL OF THE FUCKING DRUGS- JUST WRITE DOWN ALL OF THE FUCKING DRUGS.

For now we wait.......and I just hope that we wait till Monday.......because some nutball hit my husband yesterday with her car - which is in itself another WHOLE blog post........

There Is No Dignity in Labor and Delivery

Two nights ago I had some very lovely real deal contractions and after an hour of them, we whisked off the to hospital - convinced go time had arrived.
When I got back to triage - there was a nurse waiting for me with a big grin "You must be Bridgette -HI! I'm Kimberly's mom!"
Kimberly is my good friend from where I used to work.
So at first, I was like, OH HAI cool....someone who kinda knows me.

Here is what I didn't factor in. Her next statement:"Ok let's check your cervix."

I'm serious man. Did you ever meet someone's parent for the first time only to have them reach into your lady parts not ten minutes later and dig for your cervix? No? NOR SHOULD YOU. It's so feckin undignified.

I mean, I didn't even care at the time, I didn't process it till later because once you've had babies you know that no modesty and no dignity are part of the process when the contractions start. But still. HOW SURREAL.

The contractions slacked, slowed, got far far less on the magic machine that reads them and then the doctor got out of surgery and SHE came for a dig in my vag - ruled me dilated to two but not progressing so sent me home.

So I'm home. I'm doing pre-op today which I am sure will be hella good times right. I'll be meeting with anethesiology and beating them in the head about the drugs I want. ALL OF THE FUCKING DRUGS- JUST WRITE DOWN ALL OF THE FUCKING DRUGS.

For now we wait.......and I just hope that we wait till Monday.......because some nutball hit my husband yesterday with her car - which is in itself another WHOLE blog post........

Enough Is As Good As a Feast

It never occurred to me that Auntie Mame might've been the best flipping parent ever until I had kids of my own, and remembered the gems that would drop out of her mouth - specifically "You've had enough, and enough is as good as a feast."

Enough IS as good as a feast. You get what you want and need, and don't feel gorged and gluttonous after. Even better, you maintain some dignity and decorum - you don't look like Augustus Glut slurping chocolate from the river like a manic chocolate pig.

I think that in the labor and delivery classes, when they show you the horror show movies about what is going to happen to your body during labor, and they show you the movies on how to take care of that small human when you get it home......they should also have Auntie Mame night.

Just to remind you that some dignity and grace will carry that child a long way - but that they have to get it FROM YOU.

A case in point from the modern world........EASTER EGG HUNTS.

(please note the kid who has been KNOCKED DOWN in the photo above)

Now, I'd like to first mention that I don't subscribe to the "Oh let's give everyone a certificate and ALL BE WINNERS" sort of bullshit. I don't believe in false rewards. But - I also believe that there is a fine line between competition and greed - and just as we don't allow celebrations in the NFL without penalty....we should teach our children that you need to succeed with class.

For the past couple of years at my mom's group Easter egg hunt, there's been this spoiled yuppie mentality of "GET ALL THE EGGS YOU CAN SCREW THE OTHER KIDS!". You'd see kids with 10 eggs, and kids with literally 60 eggs, baskets overflowing and their parents just laughing about how cute it was.


It's not cute.



First and foremost it's not cute because Mommy and Daddy only contributed two dozen eggs to the hunt at our club. So you know, taking a LOT more than that, is kind of jerkwadish. But I don't need to split hairs and count eggs. And I realize my twins aren't going to get a "normal" amount of eggs because of being autistic they need help, and are slower etc. So, I'm really ok that my kids get a few less and your kids get a few more.
This lesson of not taking more than we "need" applies across all facets of our lives. Don't take more food at a buffet than you need - just to throw the leftovers away. It's wasteful. Don't waste energy, power.......natural resources.

Auntie Mame's words weren't just about small petty things. And Easter Egg hunts are one place that children can and do learn social expectations for their lives. A hour or two in a park, repeated yearly, teaches behavior lessons that are applied throughout other events.

What made me laugh this year was that I mentioned it at our club, this greedy taking of waaaaayyyy too many eggs. I could hear other parents shouting to their kids exactly the number of eggs they were allowed this year. Which cracked me up. They missed the point.

I brought three dozen eggs per kid. I dunno how many we brought home. Less than that. We got enough eggs to make three VERY happy little boys. After we had enough, we played at the park where the party was held and had a wonderful day.

We'd had enough. And it was as good as a feast.

Enough Is As Good As a Feast

It never occurred to me that Auntie Mame might've been the best flipping parent ever until I had kids of my own, and remembered the gems that would drop out of her mouth - specifically "You've had enough, and enough is as good as a feast."

Enough IS as good as a feast. You get what you want and need, and don't feel gorged and gluttonous after. Even better, you maintain some dignity and decorum - you don't look like Augustus Glut slurping chocolate from the river like a manic chocolate pig.

I think that in the labor and delivery classes, when they show you the horror show movies about what is going to happen to your body during labor, and they show you the movies on how to take care of that small human when you get it home......they should also have Auntie Mame night.

Just to remind you that some dignity and grace will carry that child a long way - but that they have to get it FROM YOU.

A case in point from the modern world........EASTER EGG HUNTS.

(please note the kid who has been KNOCKED DOWN in the photo above)

Now, I'd like to first mention that I don't subscribe to the "Oh let's give everyone a certificate and ALL BE WINNERS" sort of bullshit. I don't believe in false rewards. But - I also believe that there is a fine line between competition and greed - and just as we don't allow celebrations in the NFL without penalty....we should teach our children that you need to succeed with class.

For the past couple of years at my mom's group Easter egg hunt, there's been this spoiled yuppie mentality of "GET ALL THE EGGS YOU CAN SCREW THE OTHER KIDS!". You'd see kids with 10 eggs, and kids with literally 60 eggs, baskets overflowing and their parents just laughing about how cute it was.


It's not cute.



First and foremost it's not cute because Mommy and Daddy only contributed two dozen eggs to the hunt at our club. So you know, taking a LOT more than that, is kind of jerkwadish. But I don't need to split hairs and count eggs. And I realize my twins aren't going to get a "normal" amount of eggs because of being autistic they need help, and are slower etc. So, I'm really ok that my kids get a few less and your kids get a few more.
This lesson of not taking more than we "need" applies across all facets of our lives. Don't take more food at a buffet than you need - just to throw the leftovers away. It's wasteful. Don't waste energy, power.......natural resources.

Auntie Mame's words weren't just about small petty things. And Easter Egg hunts are one place that children can and do learn social expectations for their lives. A hour or two in a park, repeated yearly, teaches behavior lessons that are applied throughout other events.

What made me laugh this year was that I mentioned it at our club, this greedy taking of waaaaayyyy too many eggs. I could hear other parents shouting to their kids exactly the number of eggs they were allowed this year. Which cracked me up. They missed the point.

I brought three dozen eggs per kid. I dunno how many we brought home. Less than that. We got enough eggs to make three VERY happy little boys. After we had enough, we played at the park where the party was held and had a wonderful day.

We'd had enough. And it was as good as a feast.

Put Me In Coach

I have to admit it, I'm more than vexed by the concept that I've conceived a child that won't obey mother nature and turn the correct direction for delivery. I got lucky previously. I know this. Easy labor, easy births - even the twins - for a TWIN delivery were a cake walk comparatively.

I have always, ALWAYS gotten my way, when it came to labor and delivery.

I got the drugs, I got the experience I wanted.

And well......I kinda like it.

I don't FEAR it. It's the known to me. I know for a fact that this frame and these hips can get the job done, I'm BUILT to breed except for that whole deformed uterus thing.

I can DO this, Mother Nature. Put me in. What's the trade off this time? No drugs......well that'd suck but you know what, I'd take it over the c-section I really would. I'd take a deep breath and plung forward that women have for thousands of years and it'd be fine.

I'm not being put in. I've been sidelined, reduced to a spectator in the birth of my own child, my only daughter. It's making me a little bitter, I have to admit. If I brush aside my abject FEAR of surgery, of the recovery, of the pain and suffering I'm going to endure afterward vs. the next to nothing after childbirth.......I'm fucking PISSED OFF that I'm no longer an integral part of this process.

I am not the crew. I am the Enterprise. And that is so not cool.

Does it beat the alternatives? Well hell yeah. I'd rather this than either of us end up dead. But I'm a bit pissed off at fate I have to admit.

And I'm gonna be a huge baby about this whole thing. I'd like everyone to just get their hankies out now because I'm not gonna be brave or tough or nuttin.

I have included random pics from our Twins Club Spring Party for one reason.

They make me happy.

Hope yours was magical too.

Put Me In Coach

I have to admit it, I'm more than vexed by the concept that I've conceived a child that won't obey mother nature and turn the correct direction for delivery. I got lucky previously. I know this. Easy labor, easy births - even the twins - for a TWIN delivery were a cake walk comparatively.

I have always, ALWAYS gotten my way, when it came to labor and delivery.

I got the drugs, I got the experience I wanted.

And well......I kinda like it.

I don't FEAR it. It's the known to me. I know for a fact that this frame and these hips can get the job done, I'm BUILT to breed except for that whole deformed uterus thing.

I can DO this, Mother Nature. Put me in. What's the trade off this time? No drugs......well that'd suck but you know what, I'd take it over the c-section I really would. I'd take a deep breath and plung forward that women have for thousands of years and it'd be fine.

I'm not being put in. I've been sidelined, reduced to a spectator in the birth of my own child, my only daughter. It's making me a little bitter, I have to admit. If I brush aside my abject FEAR of surgery, of the recovery, of the pain and suffering I'm going to endure afterward vs. the next to nothing after childbirth.......I'm fucking PISSED OFF that I'm no longer an integral part of this process.

I am not the crew. I am the Enterprise. And that is so not cool.

Does it beat the alternatives? Well hell yeah. I'd rather this than either of us end up dead. But I'm a bit pissed off at fate I have to admit.

And I'm gonna be a huge baby about this whole thing. I'd like everyone to just get their hankies out now because I'm not gonna be brave or tough or nuttin.

I have included random pics from our Twins Club Spring Party for one reason.

They make me happy.

Hope yours was magical too.

I Was Wrong, It SHOULD Be AVERSION

Ok so I don't want to rave on like a lunatic about being pregnant because really, even I'm getting bored with it. But truthfully, now that I've tried the VERSION process, I'm filing it under ACK.

Mine didn't work.

That's the less dramatic version of the story.

The dramatic version would be that I truly believe I could've birthed her on the spot with less agony than what I went through as he tried to shove my giant baby into a position she had no interest in going to. I'm not sure that it's natural for a human to put their hands that deeply into your abdomen and have them not come up bloody.

I was as quiet as I could be though, during the process, because my #1 thought was that if he knew how badly this optional procedure was hurting me, he'd STOP. And the last thing I wanted him to do was stop.

But it didn't matter, and when it was all over I had the shakes from the terbutaline (sp?) they'd given me to relax my uterus and hopefully prevent the onset of labor. They brought me a zombie turkey sandwich (ask Homer Simpson if you don't get the reference) and some apple juice which I slugged down at about 1 I'm guessing. We'd arrived at 8:30.

Today I'm miserable. My entire stomach hurts like it was in a fight. And it lost. Which is hard to believe given it's SIZE.

So now the plan is, c section April 20. When I get there, after my spinal, he will try to turn her again. Apparently he can shove a lot harder when I can't feel the pain. Or if I go into labor, and they do a spinal, and the stars are aligned just right - again - he'll try to turn her. But she's a pretty big girl and only getting bigger. So we'll hope for the best but not hold our breath.

He's promising me I can have Versed as soon as the cord is cut, and right now, that's about all I'm looking forward to.

I Was Wrong, It SHOULD Be AVERSION

Ok so I don't want to rave on like a lunatic about being pregnant because really, even I'm getting bored with it. But truthfully, now that I've tried the VERSION process, I'm filing it under ACK.

Mine didn't work.

That's the less dramatic version of the story.

The dramatic version would be that I truly believe I could've birthed her on the spot with less agony than what I went through as he tried to shove my giant baby into a position she had no interest in going to. I'm not sure that it's natural for a human to put their hands that deeply into your abdomen and have them not come up bloody.

I was as quiet as I could be though, during the process, because my #1 thought was that if he knew how badly this optional procedure was hurting me, he'd STOP. And the last thing I wanted him to do was stop.

But it didn't matter, and when it was all over I had the shakes from the terbutaline (sp?) they'd given me to relax my uterus and hopefully prevent the onset of labor. They brought me a zombie turkey sandwich (ask Homer Simpson if you don't get the reference) and some apple juice which I slugged down at about 1 I'm guessing. We'd arrived at 8:30.

Today I'm miserable. My entire stomach hurts like it was in a fight. And it lost. Which is hard to believe given it's SIZE.

So now the plan is, c section April 20. When I get there, after my spinal, he will try to turn her again. Apparently he can shove a lot harder when I can't feel the pain. Or if I go into labor, and they do a spinal, and the stars are aligned just right - again - he'll try to turn her. But she's a pretty big girl and only getting bigger. So we'll hope for the best but not hold our breath.

He's promising me I can have Versed as soon as the cord is cut, and right now, that's about all I'm looking forward to.