In honor of this auspicious occasion, you know Labor Day, Rocks in My Dryer had the stellar idea that we should all post our Labor Stories – truly the greatest feat of labor for most women, and a labor most men will never truly know. So before you run off to your family cookout or whatever, grab yourself a cold beer and settle in for this Laborious Tale of Terror, or you know, how MM was borned:
How long were your labors?
Well, so far it’s been only just the one. At 6 am we arrived to be induced. 8am the gave me petocin. I began dilating, though I never got far. Around 10am they gave me something – maybe more petocin, maybe something else – then I went into what we call “labor” something resembling serious contractions and my eyes rolling into the back of my head. She (Dr. Evil) broke my water (by force) sometime in the afternoon. Then I spent the evening being all in labor, MM trying desperately to come out, and my fool cervix (or whatever, can you tell I failed all biology courses ever?) never dilating past 2 cm or whatever they call it. My son had the pointiest head in like history or something for all his efforts…
How did you know you were in labor?
Well my eyes rolled into the back of my head for what seemed like permanently, and my MIL and husband informed me that was labor, then tried to get the nurse or Dr. Evil to come in an do something about it.
Where did you deliver?
All over the hospital – haha like as in I started in one room, got wheeled to another hotter room with lots of sharp tools, and then ended up in another room, where I stayed for like 10 days or something. That part was almost worse than living with your parents and in-laws combined. Because all your extended family pops in unannounced at odd hours, and the nurses are anti-nursing nazis who figure, “If she ain’t figured it out yet, she never will – give the kid a bottle.” Thanks nurses.
I think I had all of them. They probably had to order a fresh supply after I left.
Yes, I mentioned I went in at 6am. Well just before midnight the next morning, we had a c-section. If they’d made the call 10 minutes later, my son’s birthday would be 4/8 – which is not my favorite numbers (that is NOT the reason I chose 4/7 as the birthday, despite being my favorite numbers, it was also “exactly one week after his duedate, and Dr. Evil had a schedule to keep you know, so she signed me up for arrival that morning probably just before her yoga class and just after her morning enema.
Just before she began cutting my child out of my body, she informed me (Dr. Evil, My Deliveress of Doom) that I need not worry, as she’d had all 3 of her children this way, and well look how terrific she is. I’m wondering if she meant the c-section, or the nearly 24 hours of unnecessary torture. Maybe she likes it like that? All crazy and mind-blowing? All those drugs are like the world’s best frat party before the poop party begins? Who knows. She also told me like a week or a month or whatever later, during my checkup, that my stitches were like “her best work ever.” I’m sure her mother is very proud.
So Happy Labor Day everyone. After you’ve gotten this nasty image out of your mind, I hope you’ll all enjoy a day of cookouts or replacing your car stereo – you know, whatever. I know I’m doing one of those things today.
Want to gross out your readers and share your labor story, too? Or maybe, unlike myself, your labor was a beautiful blend of blessings and birth and other beautiful b words… Well definitely share that shit so we can do that next time instead! And then link up at Rocks in My Dryer, as she’s the mastermind behind all this.
* Disclaimer * No real names were used in the duration of this House of Horrors Tale of Labor. The Real Dr. Evil, if there is one (outside of the movies), did not deliver my baby. I won’t list the “good doctor’s” name here, for fear that she Googles herself. Seriously, ever since blogging began, this has become my newest greatest fear? What’s up with that, yo?