Monday, December 14, 2009

Birthin' Babies

One of the circles of hell in Dante's Inferno should be called, "Pregnant Girl at Party". Because that really is the very depth of misery. It sucks the big one. Truly. One of my friends is pregnant. What can I say.....I've got some pals that are still of child bearin' age......could probably still happen to me but I do believe I would kill myself should that occur.....more on that later. She was at a party in the 'hood the other night. Our 'hood is a little, um......lively? And although I don't remember much about anything in general, I sure do remember being the only sober person in the room while preggers. Newsflash: drunk people are not fun when you are not drunk. Oh, when you are, they are the funniest mofo's on the planet. But when you are sober and pregnant (which is really the only reasonable excuse for sobriety at a party.....I tend to supsect that non-pregnant sober party-goers have an agenda) you have been dealt a double blow and were surely dragged to said soiree kicking and screaming. My friend had that look of "get me out of here now lest I kill all of you with my bare, bloated hands". Oh, I so felt her pain. I was right there with ya, sista. I was not one of those glowy women all awash with the joy of the miracle of childbirth. I was pissed. There is really not one good thing I can say about being pregnant except for the fact that it yields a baby. Doesn't mean you have to enjoy it though. Gee, living like a Mormon for 9 1/2 months sure is fun! And having your entire body blow up to cartoonish proportions is awesome too. I understand that if you didn't have boobs before you were pregnant that the sudden acquisition of the big and bouncies may be a novel concept and makes you feel all womanly or something. I know some people like this aspect of the whole deal. I had boobs before I became pregnant. What they became during my pregnancy was otherworldly. I'm not sure if they even qualified as boobs after a certain point. I don't know what those things were. And any man that tells you that obviously pregnant women are hot is lying. I'm pretty sure about that. This state also renders you somewhat asexual as you're really not a woman but a baby factory. Kinda strips you of your power to make men do your bidding. The whole thing just kinda sucks. Or at least it did for me.I was certain that because I abhorred being pregnant to such an extent that the good Lord would not allow me to remain in that state for a second longer than was absolutely necessary. I was sure that Jack would shoot out early. Not too early but early-ish. Oh nooooooo. That's not what happened. That's not what happened AT ALL. Six days past my due date I checked into the hospital to be induced. Hooked up to a Pitocin drip and having some "cervix ripening" shit applied every few hours. To the actual cervix. Fun. Oh, and there's the fact that while in the hospital awaiting childbirth, you really may as well be auditioning for the Muppet Show because you'll have more hands and fingers stuck up and into your person than you can shake a fist at. Which is rude. Anybody that walks by seems entitled to have a go at it. I believe a guy changing a lightbulb in the hall partook at one point. Nice. Anyway, after 24 hours of this bullshit, nothing happened. Nothing. So round two begins. Another 24 hours pass. Still nothing. Not even dilated enough so that my water could be broken. They told me I could go home and try again in a couple of days. Um, HELL NO!!!!! I have been here for 48 hours and I am not leaving without a baby goddamnit!!!! I must have looked on the verge of going postal as it was quickly agreed that a c-section was in order. Cool! BUT because I refused to take a childbirth class on the grounds that it was dorky, I was not aware of all that this entails. Imagine my surprise when after having a needle shoved into my spine (enough with the shoving of things in places already....isn't that what landed me in this spot in the first place?) I was informed that as far as anesthesia goes, that was it until the baby was out. I've had plenty of surgery and at the very least they'll give you valium to take the edge off. So I'm sitting there thinking, "You're honestly telling ME, for whom going to the mailbox is generally deemed a cocktail worthy event, that you are going to cut a HUMAN BEING out of my body and I am going to be as sober as a judge?" WTF???? At this point, considering that I was strapped down to the table ('cause you know, I might try to escape mid-way through the procedure) I was at the point of no return. The medical professionals attending to me were apparently feeling fiesty and were jamming Madonna. "Holiday" to be specific. Doctor: "Okay're going to feel some pressure".  Yeah, the pressure of you splaying me open like a halibut. No matter what you say and how soothingly you say it, I know what you're doing down there. Much butchering ensues. Dave is yanked up for a viewing at some point. Jack's gigantic head is out. The rest of him wasn't having any of it though. His shoulder was stuck. Jesus Christ. Somebody just shoot me now. Anyway, they obviously got him out at some point. After seeing the little guy (yeah, yeah,'s a baby), I believe my first quote was, "Can I have the drugs now?!" and they mercifully complied so that I could check out while being reassembled. As I drifted off, I gazed up at my adoring husband and said, "There will be no more children". And I meant it. 


  1. hahaha, that's bloody funny... and well written to boot. I feel I know you a bit more already. You didn't have a fun time of it by all accounts but... have you changed your mind yet? No JackII being considered? aaaaah.

  2. Funny stuff. But you stopped before getting to the part where they make you walk the day after they splay you open like a halibut, only then to discover what role stomach muscles play in walking erect.
    Thanks for the entertaining post.