"I Tore Mommy a New One..."

With a breakthrough performance by Ethan Phillip Thibodeaux!

I'm finally a mama. I've never been more tired. I've never been more dependent on coffee. I've never been more exhausted or sore all over in my life. And I've certainly never been more happy.

3 a.m. Tuesday morning: Contractions, ouch. Never had any like this before.
4 a.m.: Thinking about going to hospital. These really hurt.
4:30 a.m.: Discuss condition with my mother. We decide to wait until the contractions are closer together. I try to sleep but wake up every 5 minutes for the next 3 hours.
7:30 a.m.: Get out of bed and decide to wash my face and brush my teeth. Tell husband what's going on and that TODAY IS THE DAY. I'm in labor.
8:30 a.m.: Drive to hospital. Contractions are now causing me to double over in pain. Surely, SURELY, I'm dialated to at least a 5 or 6... am super woman, can totally handle this. I mentally pat myself on the back.
9:00 a.m.: In room at hospital. Amazed at how quickly I got a room! Equally amazed at hideousness of hospital gown and uncomfortableness of bed. It's going to be a long day.
9:30 a.m.: Am hooked up to eight thousand different machines. Baby's heartbeat is not doing well. We discover that his heartbeat stabilizes when I'm on my right side. So, I lie on my right side. Ouch. Contractions suck.
9:35 a.m.: Am 3 centimeters dialated. BAH! It cannot be! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK. I need an epidural.
10:00 a.m.: Am having to breathe through each contraction now, with the help of my mom and D. They HURT. Tell mom she is amazing and goddess-like for having 4 natural births. Feel like total pussy and wimp.
10:05 a.m.: Doctor E comes in. Says I can have my epidural and that baby is handling labor well with me on my right side.
10:30 a.m.: Magic medicine woman comes in, ready to butcher my spine. She says my skin is "tough" and stresses the importance of my staying still.
10:31 a.m.: Cannot stay still. Am shaking horribly now and body parts involuntarily flex and contract each time she pokes my back.
10:32 a.m.: Apologize for not being able to stand still eight million times. Magic medicine woman is obviously annoyed. Feel like a horrible mother already. Everyone said that the epidural is not big deal, but so far it is FUCKING HELL.
10:35 a.m.: Epidural is in and I mentally kiss magic medicine woman. Feel a warm rush throughout my lower body. Wish I could share this feeling with the world. D loves the epidural just as much as I do... am now all rainbows and skittles and sunshine.
10:36 a.m.: Medicine woman is not so magic afterall... she informs me that she accidentally leaked a little bit of spinal fluid from my spine while inserting the needle, which could cause a moderate to severe headache that could last anywhere from 24 hours to a week. Fan-fucking-tastic.
10:37 a.m.: Severe headache swallows me whole.
10:45 a.m.: Sisters B and E come in to hang out. They begin placing bets on my contractions. B should not gamble. E is $20 richer.
11:00 a.m.: Cervix check: 4.5 centimeters. This is going to be the longest day in history of long days.
12:30 p.m.: Start to feel crampy on left side. Ignore it. Sleep for awhile, wake up hungrier than I've ever been. Cannot eat. Am not allowed. D is munching on vending machine junk in the corner of the room and I hate him wholeheartedly for a minute.
1:00 p.m.: Sleep.
3:00 p.m.: Crampiness becomes severe pain. Complain to nurse. Nurse explains that yeah, haha, gravity can pull the epidural to one side, so it wears off on the other side. I'm feeling the contractions. Marvelous!
3:30 p.m.: I AM IN PAIN. I cannot go on. Everything is insanely numb on my right side, but on my left I CAN FEEL EVERYTHING. Cervix check: 9.5 centimeters. HOLY SHIT. I'm almost there. It's almost time to push.
3:45 p.m.: Time to start pushing. 10 centimeters dialated. HOLY SHIT. Assume the position: mom on my left side, D on my right, nurse between my legs. We wait for a contraction, and then the nurse tells me to take a deeeeeeeeep breath and then push for ten seconds. Pushing is HARD, and I keep pushing with my face instead of my uterus. After one push, she says to take another quick deep breath and push again for another 10 seconds. Repeat once more, rest and wait for another contraction to start the whole thing over again. We're working in sets of threes.
4:00 p.m.: 15 minutes has passed but it feels like days. Pushing is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, EVER.
5:05 p.m.: The head has crowned. We wait for Doctor E. Where the fuck is he? How can I sit here with a human head hanging out of my VAGINA and not push? Why isn't Doctor E already here?
5:07 p.m.: Dr. E arrives. We start pushing. I want to kill myself. I cannot go on. Pushing is insane. I have nothing left. I consider just pushing the baby back in and going home.
5:10 p.m.: The baby is half way out. Dr. E asks if I've got one more push in me. I don't, but FUCK. I have to do it. I muster up one more squeeze. I can feel the baby's limbs slide out. My mom cries. I cry. D cries. We're one big snotty mess of happiness and salty tears. This is the greatest day EVER.
5:11 p.m.: Ethan Phillip Thibodeaux is born. He is pink and plump and cries loudly with his whole body. HE HAS ARRIVED!

D-Day...

So I haven't posted in 10 days. Lots and lots has happened. My last day of work was December 16. WHOO-fucking-HOO! We finally moved out of our apartment and did the final farewell cleaning last night... a sugar-high induced battle of ratty old rags, windex fumes and clorox bleach vs. one nasty bathtub, 2 toilets, one disgusting fridge and lots of cobwebbed base boards. What a jolly way to end our long and baby-less Christmas day.

Today is my official due date. I know that only something like 4% of babies are actually born on their due dates, so it's no suprise that I'm still sitting here stuffed to the gills with BABY BOY. I lost my mucus plug on Christmas Eve, something I just can't seem to keep to myself. "You're STILL pregnant?", "Still no baby?", "My gawd I think your stomach grew overnight!", "Weren't you supposed to be induced last week?" and my favorite, "This is the most beautiful time in your life, so spiritual!". To these remarks I happily reply, "Well, I LOST MY MUCUS PLUS ON SATURDAY EVENING". The looks of disgust/confusion/panic/excitement are priceless. Mucus plug? Oh yes, the clear, snot-like, gelatinous blob that corks your cervix for nearly 9 months. At least I'm moving in the right direction, right? Right.

D was kind of upset that I didn't save it to show him, and when my little brother heard that I "lost" my plug he asked if I was going to try to find it. I love the men in my life.

Tomorrow I have an appointment with my OB/GYN. He is back from his week-long ski trip in Oregon and should be ready and willing to induce me... I will be, after all, ONE day overdue! And if he happens to put up a fight, perhaps a few pregnancy-related threats of violence will push him to DO THE RIGHT THING DEAR GAWD PLEASE PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY OH POWERFUL AND GIFTED DOCTOR. Thanks.

So, wish me luck. I have no idea what I'm in for, I know. And I could not be more excited about it. I usually hate change and fear the unknown, but in this case I could not be more ready for whatever the birth of my first child throws at me.

Bless You...

Last week one of my bosses came in to work snotting and sneezing and coughing all over the damn place, and in the back of my mind I *knew* I would catch his crud. I didn't give it much thought again until I started to feel like total crap late Saturday night while we were doing some midnight grocery shopping. I know myself so well and I've been sick enough times to know the drill prefectly. Hot, flushed feeling, followed by a scratchy throat and feeling like I'm under water, then the nose stuffiness sets in and everything turns to shit. My nose decided to clog last night, so I'm at the part where everything is shit. Happy Monday to all.

Friday night we had our company Christmas dinner at a really kick ass steak house in Southlake. I was totally impressed with everything about the restaurant, the food and atmosphere were awesome and I sort of kicked myself for dreading the whole thing beforehand. I DID NOT WANT TO GO. D and I fought the whole way there, because I felt the need to be a total bitch and turned any feelings of dread and work-related misery into hatred toward my poor husband. I am in the running for wife of the year, for sure.

In the end it was a fantastic night. Now all of the employees are raising their eyebrows, wondering if that expensive dinner counts as our Christmas bonus for the year. We can't ASK, of course, but we will all be anxiously waiting to see if we get an extra check in the next few weeks. While we all totally enjoyed and appreciated the delicious dinner, you simply cannot take a steak to the bank and deposit it, nor can you bring your leftover dinner up to Macy's and use it to purchase Christmas gifts for family and friends. You also can't pay for a hospital bill after giving birth with cold calamari and crabcakes, so my fingers are crossed... now that I've just read that back to myself, I feel like a selfish wench. I'm ok with feeling like a selfish wench.

The doctor "checked" me on Thursday and said that I am not dialated but that I do feel a bit soft. I love how the terms used to describe fruit are the same terms used to describe a cervix's readiness to deliver a baby... i.e. "ripe" and "soft". Yum. Anyway, I'm totally giving my cervix a talking to. The conversation usually goes something like this:

Me: Hello down there! Maybe you could "ripen" and "soften" and dialate just a smidge to speed this thing up?"

Cervix: ::

Me: Ok, well, if there's anything I can do to help, let me know!

Cervix: :: (braxton hicks contraction) ::

Me: Heh, ok, talk to you later!

Cervix: ::

So... time ticks away, my doctor will be going on vacation the week of the 19th (my original induction day) so we either have to induce on the 16th or after he returns from his vacation. I'm convinced that these last few weeks of pregnancy are simply to torture me. The baby is physically ready to come out, he just wants to spend another week or two chilling in his cozy little womb. He's totally doing shots of tequilla in there and going clubbing at night, sleeping in till noon and all of that. He's got some killer dance moves that nearly KILL ME and cause me to wince in pain, especially the one where he sticks his butt out while jamming a foot into my rib cage. While it may look cool, it fucking hurts.

I can't wait to meet him. Yesterday I was looking through a Kohl's catalog and started CRYING when I turned to the baby page. Anything with pictures of babies smiling and drooling for the camera causes me to wimper and tear up. The mere thought of meeting and holding and loving my baby in just a couple of weeks swallows me whole. I can't wait. I am so ready. Then we can do tequila shots together!