Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Birth Story: Part III

Yesterday when we left off, I could finally check "give birth to a 7 lb human" off my bucket-list. 

Next up was the gross stuff. 
We're talking horror movie meets unflattering documentary. 

You know those med students I mentioned before? Saying "yes" to that whole debacle meant that KU doc was going to teach them how to stitch up the damage he did with those giant salad tongs.
[Sorry for the picture, but come on. You're reading a birth story.]
What this meant for me was that I had my legs in robot-looking stirrups with my lady parts exposed to the ENTIRE room for what felt like 4 hours. Even though my shame had left the building the minute I walked in to the hospital, no one will ever be comfortable in that situation.

This also meant that my dad couldn't come back into the room until they were finished. A problem that was pre-maturely solved at one point. as the men thought everything was hunky dory when really I was still exposed to the elements. 
They opened the door and started walking around the curtain as I screamed, 

Which may have seemed like an overreaction at the time, but they would probably thank me now because of the potential therapy bills and all.

Amidst all of this stitching and cleaning up going on, I was struggling with all of my might to see this tiny human I just birthed. She didn't cry right away, so I, of course, flipped my shit.
They then proceeded to clean her up and take all of her vitals - without updating me, mind you. I had to yell and start sobbing again before they gave me the low-down. 
"They've got a bunch of dingleberries working here, Ma!" -Addi

And finally I got to hold her. 
Luckily the hospital is on the mom's side at this time because they handed her right to me. Nice of them. I did just push her out of me, so it seems only fair that I'd get her first. Didn't even have to call dibs.

There was a lot of cooing, and talk of how beautiful she was, and how great I did; but amidst all of the chatter, all I could do was stare at her. 
Everything around me went quiet and I suddenly realized that I was a mom. 
From this moment on, I would never not be a mom.
If that makes any sense. 

It's a very overwhelming feeling. Amazing and overwhelming. Suddenly a weight is placed on your shoulder that says, "you better not eff this up." 

After having the epiphany of a lifetime, I passed her on to the eager admirers at my side.

Dad and FIL finally got to re-enter the room once the med students had gotten their hour-long class in, courtesy of my personal pain. I should've gotten paid for that, come to think of it. 

After all of the fuss had died down and the room quieted, I could only think of one thing:

"So, who's up for going to get me some chicken strips and cheddar bites with extra ranch from Sonic? I just burned like 9 million calories and have been running on one pop-tart for 12 hours. The diva is about to come out."
Priorities, people.

Thanks for sticking around to read my [our] story. 
Stay tuned as I chronicle our now crazy life for the next 80 years.

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