birth story.

Doesn't everyone want to hear about that time I pushed a baby out of my queen victoria?  Men, this post ain't for you, unless of course you would like to read it.  You've been warned.

There I was, the night before my due date.  I was grumpy and miserable and knew Owen would not arrive for days.  I was on all fours in bed mumbling while Nick read a book.  I felt what I thought to be a super human ninja kick from Owen.  It felt like a rubber band snapping.  When I sat up I felt a gush of liquid.  I thought what every rational woman would think... that I had just peed my pants.  A lot.  So I backed away slowly as to not alert Nick to my incontinence.  It was not pee- it was amniotic fluid.  I know because I smelled it.  (I asked Nick to smell it too, just in case, but he declined)  Then I called labor and delivery.  They told me to come in.  Come in?  Like to have my baby?  They said yes.  What followed was a mad dash to corral the animals while not wetting through my pants- which I did.
I got to the hospital at midnight and was put on pitocin to induce labor because water breaking increases your risk of infection.  I got some sort wonderful drug at 2 am which made me feel drunk.  Then all of a sudden the nurses rouse me out of my drugged state and there I am on my hands and knees again.  Va jay jay in the air. Amazing how you don't care at that point.  To make a long story short I progressed from 4 cms - 8 cms in an hour.  In case you weren't aware laboring through 4-7 cms is like "wow, this is really, really uncomfortable" and then hitting 8 is like "i'm going to die."  No seriously, if I hadn't have had an epidural I would have given up the will to live.  I would have been that lady on the prairie who died on the table.  Kudos to all you ladies who made it through without a spinal block.
Then the nurses switched out.  In comes Laurie the chatty mississippi nurse.  She held my head between her boobs while I am having contractions waiting for an epidural all while chatting it up to the orienting nurse about good places to eat.  (Oh, that place?  I love that restaurant, I get the prime rib with garlic potatoes!)  I wanted her to be quiet.  Please Laurie, shut up.  Laurie would not.  I couldn't talk through my contractions.  I weighed my options.  I must hit her.  I did.  I hit her.  Only I was weak friends, very weak.  So instead of punching her (my intention) my hand only brushed her arm.  Okay Kaley, time to regroup.  Laurie must stop talking.  Telepathy isn't working.  Kick her.  So I did.  Only I was weak, so very weak.  So my foot brushed her leg.  Then the epidural kicked in and I was able to calm down and decided to stop trying to physically assault my nurse.  Then I pushed out a baby.  It took an hour and a half.  It was hard.  It was very worth it.  Owen has a beautiful skinny little head and I didn't even tear.
And I love my precious little baby.  And I love my husband for holding my dead epidural leg while I pushed and had to see things no man should ever see.  Like when the good doctor gave him a "tour of my placenta."  Now that is true love.

This is how you look right after giving birth.  I don't know what kind of medical voodoo they do to the ladies on "A Baby Story" but trust me you look bad.  Like zombie bad.  In case you were wondering the one on the right is the one I tried to clock.  I debated not posting this, it's the only picture that exists of me, but I want other women to look at me and maybe think "Hey, I looked pretty good compared to her!"

And that is my birth story.

And I might never blog again because I am tired and I have a baby.