That time I popped a baby out of my lady hole.

The fabulous Wilson over at Not Quite What I Expected gave the run down of her just popping her new little girl out and I realized I never did that with either of my kids.  So put on your seatbelts folks, I promise never to use the word mucus and to use as many euphamisms of vag as possible.

With Verona I was dead set not on having a natural birth (I find it laughable to say I WILL DO THIS about a situation you have no first hand experience with) but on giving the whole natural birth thing my best effort.  However, after 72 hours in active labor I decided that 72 hours totally counts as “my best/anyone’s best”, so after three days with lots of excruciating pain and little to no sleep I wept with joy when the beloved anesthesiologist stabbed that amazing giant needle into my spine… then promptly fell asleep, dreaming dreams of the pain-free delivery I was now sure I would have.

But there’s a dirty little secret your OB doesn’t tell you… epidurals have a finite time frame on their effectiveness.  So by that night when Verona finally made her grand arrival into the world (SOOO many more hours later than I or any medical professional thought) it had totally worn off, and her birth was 100% natural… just like I had thought I wanted.

I’ve heard of people crying tears of joy right after they have their baby, praying, or developing a sudden inability to stop smiling.  All I can remember is swearing.  Swearing up and down at the doctor as he put stitch after stitch after endless stitch in the massive damage Verona’s abnormally large head (in the 99th percentile) had done… all with zero pain killers.

Needless to say, I was a little traumatized by the entire experience, and for the entire 40 weeks of Finn’s pregnancy I was in complete and utter terror that the same thing would happen.

So I scheduled an induction for 39 weeks… and I knew people were judging me but I didn’t give a shit.  Not even a little shit.  Not even one of those tiny round turds that rabbits poop.  You know what I did give a shit about?  My lady garden not being ripped open like a ziploc snack bag full grahm crackers in the hands of a hungry toddler.  I also didn’t give a shit about attempting a “natural birth” because with the exception of that nice 10 hour rest in the middle of V’s labor I had already done that, and I had little to no interest in doing it again.

I was already in early labor when we went in for the induction so they helped keep things humming (none of this four day labor bullshit again) but it wasn’t a full induction in any sense.  And as soon as things started hurting bad enough I couldn’t focus on the movie David and I were watching a stunningly handsome anesthesiologist came in at my request and shot me up with all sorts of horrible drugs.

Because hey, my baby and I were both having a really big rough day, and I thought we deserved to be a little high on something to help us deal with it.  If you’re judging me right now… remember that story about the tiny bunny turds from earlier?  Go reread it… it applies again.

And (thank the LORD!) after the trail that his big sister blazed the little monster slid out of there like my business was a freaking water slide.  Weeeee!

There was no swearing after he was born.  Well, there probably was (I’m part sailor) but it was the good happy kind, not the angry painful kind.  The doctor immediately put him in my arms and David and I ooooed and awwwed, and talked about how perfect he was, and about how we couldn’t remember Verona ever being this small (which we later found out was because he was a full 2lbs smaller than her) until sudden the room started spinning and my vision started blurring and I looked at David and said “take this baby, take this baby right now or I’m going to drop him on the floor” right as he scooped the baby up and I lost consciousness.

Nothing says “love at first sight” like throwing your baby at someone else so you can take a little involuntary nap.  But he was born into a family of people who do everything weird, it was good he found that out right from the start.

After my blood pressure stabilized and I came to we continued the love fest.

And then I had two kids instead of one.  And the rest has been at least partially documented on here.  I hope you enjoyed this little trip through yoni memory lane as much as I have.

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5 Comments Add yours

  1. That was awesome. I won’t make the mistake of eating a sandwich while reading a post again, awesome-sauce.

  2. Erin says:

    Oh, how I love your writing. I hate when people get all judge-y about natural births. Or anything parent-related, for that matter. I also gave birth to a large baby with no painkillers, and I will never forget what it felt like to be stitched up with nothing to numb the pain. I’m glad you did things the way you wanted with Finn. And, with Verona… well, at least you have something to throw back in her face if she’s being ungrateful. You can be one of those moms who yells, “I was in labor for 72 HOURS and this is the thanks I get??”

    1. jennaboring says:

      84 hours… 72 till I got the epidural… I want the credit I deserve damn it! 😉

  3. Jennifer S says:

    Any woman who pushes a human out of their lady shoot is far braver than I! I’ve never had a desire to birth a kid (Hubs already had 2 when we met, and thats good enough for me!)…I am far to selfish to have a live screaming kid ripping from my loins. Yeesh! I always did imagine though that if I were to ever get knocked up, it would come out of me while I was high as the sky though. Ha.

  4. Tonya says:

    Ok, just found your blog. How did I not know about this sooner?! I love your writing and am now convinced more than ever that you are a rockstar and that God screwed up when she made AZ so far from good old Hesston. Love too your baby story, and that you did it all YOUR way. Nothing quite makes my vagi twitch like hearing people rave on about their natural labors and the beauty of their self-proclaimed heroism in putting themselves, their partner, and their baby through misery just so they can have another trophy in their bag of conversation starters. I had 3 c-sections, and although recovery is a bitch and you’re supposed to say that you wish you could’ve had a “vaginal delivery,” I quite like them because I still have the vagi of a 16 year old!

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