Who Knew?

Pregnancy seems like forever ago. Benji will be 2 months tomorrow so I guess I’m about 60 days clean and sober (from a fetus). After reflecting on the birth experience to write it into blog form, some things stood out that either blindsided me, were not what I had expected, or had just never crossed my mind. I figured I would share since everyone and their mom is pregnant right now. Maybe you will go into your labor and delivery a little bit wiser….

Things No one tells you about labor, delivery and the whole enchilada:

Contractions do not warn you for the coming of the water. Water breaking does not mean you’re having contractions.

Aren’t the movies glamorous? I thought I would wake up one night, stand up and whoosh, water. Then I would have a contraction, walk the dogs, bake a soufflé, mop the floor… Matt would get out the stopwatch, and once they were 5 minutes apart, we would merrily drive to the hospital where our baby would follow shortly after (flown in by a stork in that lala land). Hold Up. Screeching breaks. Hello Reality, I’m Katy. Once my water broke, I thought I was having contractions and my pain tolerance was just so great that they weren’t bothering me. Pick yourself up off the ground from laughing so hard. I ain’t seen nothin yet.

When your water breaks, it is broken.

The ‘water’ keeps coming. Don’t run. You have to sit in a puddle helpless, while nurses swap out bed liners and your husband watches with a twisted look of disgust, amusement, and intrigue. This ‘swap’ happens 500 times exposing your wet butt every time you have to ‘lift’ off of the puddle pad. Showers are not an option – for at least 12 more hours depending on when the baby comes.

Contractions hurt.

I have no words.

You are not Bipolar.

Unless you really are, then I suggest a psychiatrist. The bipolar I’m talking about is the evil version of yourself that comes out during contractions. I felt like the girl from ‘The Exorcist’~ eyes bulging, hair all wacky, lots of grunting mixed with slurs of profanities…and boom. Back to sweet little old me. Over and over. And Over. And Over 6 more times…

‘Epidural’ is no 4-letter word.

I went in thinking I’d be brave. I wanted to be as present as possible during the birth. The internet is full of horror stories… paralysis, nerve damage, DEATH! None of that even crosses your mind in the heat of contractions. The needle I didn’t look at, also brings no ill feelings. In fact, it brings no feelings at all (when inserted during said contractions, you don’t even feel it)~ and literally, no feelings at all. “Mom get my leg, its falling off the bed.”

An epidural includes a catheter.

Wow. That didn’t even cross by mind but, duh. How else would you make the 4,679 trips to the pot in 24 hours?

Catheters are a welcomed thing.

They sound scarier than they really are. I’d guess the thought of one on a guy is much worse but the best part about having one is that it’s the first pee relief in months! If you’ve never been pregnant, once you are, you will appreciate the promise of any sort of relief – even if it means a sack of pee hooked onto you that your kid brother, who is no kid at all, is very amused by.

Photo Courtesy of PK Images

Nurses have see grosser/nastier/skuzzier/stinkier things and people.

It started with my ‘water’ trail to the bathroom. I use quotations on ‘water’ because this is no refreshing spring. It is fluid that has been festering, in a body, for months (and the baby had pooped a little in it). It has a distinct smell (which the internet calls ‘sweet’ as opposed to the acidic smell of urine). Deal with it. It will pour out of you, especially when you’re in the exact position the hospital bed reclines at. Deal with it. When your bottom half is numbed, someone else will have to change the soaked linens beneath you. Deal with it. Your husband, mom, family members visiting, nurses and any other random medical personnel will witness the messes coming from your body. Deal with it. This is the nurses' job and they see it every day. I just kept telling myself, at least I’m not someone with folds of skin to lift and clean out, at least I showered today… well maybe yesterday, at least I wear deodorant. That puts me miles ahead of some of the patients I’d seen in the clinic.

*Sidenote – the Creighton staff was also very pleased with the family and visitors we had with us. Some of the yoo-hoos coming in and out of that place are sketchy. Riffraff have babies too.

C-sections do not include a slice down your stomach.

In my head, they slice your stomach vertically, pull back the 2 sides and there’s the baby waving at you with a grin. Hello baby, lets pull you out. Nope. I have an incision, barely 6 inches long, right above my pubic bone. They call it a bikini something or other. Minimal eye sore. They have to push the baby like some twisted massage starting near your chest to work it down through the incision. This massage is apparently pretty vigorous when your baby is 9”7. That will become apparent when you can’t breathe. “Oh, you’re fine. The pressure you feel on your lungs is from us pushing the baby down. You have a big baby.”

C-section babies are out in a flash, you are stuck there for much longer.

Literally stuck. They tie your arms down. The worst part of the process has nothing to do with pain or surgery~ I don’t remember any of that. The worst thing is not getting to hold him or even see him right away. Matt eventually brought him to me but I had to just look. I still had a solid 30 minutes of work left and Matt and baby were on their way to meet the family. I became super possessive and didn’t want anyone else to get to spend that time with my baby. In the end, its better ‘them’ than no one. At least ‘them’ is grandparents, aunts and uncles who are just as obsessed with the baby as you. Plus they might record that time and you’ll discover it 2 months later on your video camera and sit, watch and cry (with a baby snuggled up on you).

You instantly don’t have to pee.

What?!?! This discovery is not apparent until like 24 hours later when you go, “wait a minute, I peed longer than 4 seconds, in a ‘normal’ stream of pressure, and for the first time today! (its 2pm!)” Hallelujah! Baby off the bladder is an instant cure. Smell the roses.

You instantly feel skinny (but your jeans still don’t fit).

The first time I saw myself in the mirror, I felt tiny. Sweet! I’m one of those freaks of nature who bounce back to normal size 5 minutes after birth (and by normal size, I mean 2 sizes smaller than I was before baby). Oh, Hello again Reality, I’m still Katy. And I mean still Katy- the size I was pre-pregnancy plus about 12 pounds (you are hyper-aware of how jiggly those pounds are too after having a bump as hard as a rock for 4 months). That 12 pounds was all that remained the week after Benji was born, and its still remaining 2 months after he’s born. Breast feeding burning it off? My ass. (really, look at my ass – it only fits into 2 pairs of jeans).

That weird dark line doesn't go away.

It will~ I googled it. But they say it could be about 6 months. The giant boobs may tempt you to get into a bikini but the line screams otherwise (and the fact that your stomach skin was just reduced by the size of a basketball or two). Cancel that tropical vacay 'push present' you got me, Matt. My unsightly discoloration means no bikini for me.

It hurts to poop.

I assumed I had dodged a bullet with the C-section rather than the watermelon through a… whatever the metaphor is. But, aside from the obvious soreness and pain, your guts hurt. Slicing through my abs of steel (which laughably, they called my abs when trying to slice them. Seriously? I haven’t done a crunch since ’92) may have contributed, but a number of daily activities unknowingly use the muscles that were traumatized in delivery. You quickly find out which activities those are too. Laughing, coughing, sneezing, lifting your arms above your shoulders, rolling over, laying flat, arching your back, bending over, getting off the couch, reaching into a cupboard, straightening your hair, sitting on the pot, getting off of the pot, and yes, pushing #2, hurt.

Your maternity leave is a cruel trickery of time.

It is the laziest, busiest time of doing nothing, yet having no time to do anything. Days can drag on sitting at home in sweats, unshowered with nothing to do but weeks fly by. Everyone says it but seriously, the time flies. Why can’t work weeks move that fast? I spent 7 weeks as a lazy, scrubby, gluttonous milk machine, and I have no regrets. (except maybe not keeping up with this blog so I wouldn’t have to type 9,000 pages now)

Take pictures. You’ll appreciate it later.

How else would you all get to see my push picture? I wish I had taken one the night we went to the hospital~ a final belly picture~ but that slipped through the cracks. Looking back at the last stomach picture I have (which was 38 weeks) I can’t believe how big I was. When it was on me, I didn’t realize the bump’s magnitude but whoh baby! On D-day, hospital pictures with no makeup, greasy hair, weird faces... they WILL turn out hideous but in a laughable way. I love going back to see the all details in the expressions. You can relive the day that’s over in a flash. Snap away.

the last belly

Even though I was so over pregnancy, I already miss it.

Sorry Matt, I instantly wanted to do it all again. Baby Core #2 ETA- sooner rather than later. (and #3 and #4 and #5….) 

And one final thought,

Everybody poops.