I started to write this last year and never finished it before lack of sunlight interfered with my writing skills. This week The Doodle-Bug turns two and we are to celebrate her awesomeness this weekend complete with Old McDonald everything. So to commemorate her second year of hilariousness, here is my story from a year ago. Enjoy!
As I sit here watching my mini-me sitting in her Cabela's camp chair with her little feets up on the coffee table I think back to my pregnancy and her arrival. It's a long story but very hilarious. Read on.
When I found out I was pregnant, our hyperactive white dog wouldn't leave me alone. He is very perceptive and knew that I was pregnant before I knew. I thought, "Ok, either I have cancer or I am pregnant. I think I may take a pee test first before I freak out." Turns out, I had a bun in the oven. So after my shock came horror, "OMG I only have one fallopian tube, oh God.... is this going to be an ectopic pregnancy and blow out my tube?!!" So I frantically called the doctor to make an appointment with the doctor and somehow figure out how to tell my husband that we were going to be having a baby. I had done like 85 pee sticks and had them lined up in progression on the bathroom counter and asked my husband to go check on something in the bathroom. He came back and said, "sooooo..... what's this all about?" I said, "Well, I think we may be pregnant." "I'm no genius but these are all positive results here.... I think that's more of a possibility than not." I then told him my fears and he said that after all the praying that I have done, I would be fine because he had faith. I should always listen to my husband but I don't, this is an instance where he was completely right.
After all of the hub-bub of going to the crotch doctor and confirming I was pregnant and telling our parents, we were in complete and utter shock. How could we be this lucky? We were shocked and I kept thinking the bottom was going to drop out on us... guess what it did. My husband lost his job, I couldn't get full time employment and the Gub'ment said we made too much money for them to pay for my baby. It was ridiculous but I learned the power of couponing so it all worked out in the end.
That whole pregnancy sickness crap was so not accurate! I was sick every single day of that pregnancy until about 20 seconds before they cut me open to deliver Shrek-baby! I couldn't eat meat for whatever reason and eating meat and smelling meat made me toss my cookies like woah! It was so bad that my Bestie's puppy Sir Henry Spotswerth-Topplebottom got the brunt end of my all-freaking-day sickness. He had peed, pooped and vomited in his kennel when I went to get let him out to go potty after work one day and I had just made a pork roast. Let's just say I puked all over him, the front porch and possibly the neighbors cat. Ironically, when I got done crying, apologizing and bathing the dog, and I went out to clean up the porch and the neighbors cat it was mysteriously not disgusting and puke-ified out there. Either someone saw me toss my cookies or the neighbors cat is thorough. Jury is still out on that one.
I was also over due with my munchkin and they did an ultra sound to make sure everything was healthy and nothing was alarming or serious at that time. The doctor put Le Monster's picture up on the baby jumbo-tron, I started crying. My husband thought I was weeping with joy and said, "She's beautiful isn't she?!" I swiftly told him no that she looked like Shrek and my dad and she was going to be ugly. He calmed me down and told me it was going to be fine. The doctor on the other hand told me that I needed to have a C-section because there was no way I was delivering those shoulders naturally. As if I didn't have enough to worry about and to hell with my birth plan! That went right out the window when all I could think of was my whooo-haaa and all the terrible things that could happen with natural child birth and Shrek Baby. So we scheduled the C-section and went on with our business.
The Monday of the C-section I woke up with horrible "down there" pains and a burning, head against my pubis feeling so I got out of bed at 4am to go pee and start my day of leisurely planning for my baby's arrival. WRONG! I sat down to pee, leaned forward to completely empty my bladder, got done and stood up to find that my water had broke. I didn't realize it at the time because it was 4am, but my water had broke. I sat back down, it stopped gushing out, stood back up and pondered if I peed myself or if this was the real thing, then contractions started and I realized we needed to get to the hospital. My husband on the other hand was not concerned about time tables, pain or an urgency for clean underwear because he stood at the bathroom door eating a donut while green-tinged amniotic fluid was everywhere and all over my white bathmat. I asked him for a clean pair of underwear and he came back with a ratty old t-shirt for me to wear. I swiftly informed him I couldn't wear that on my butt and that I needed a new pair of underwear and we needed to go to the hospital right now. He continued to eat a donut in the doorway.
I got cleaned up, freaked out a bit and finally got my things around enough to slide on some shoes and go sit in the car. My LP eventually made it out there and drove like a CHURCH LADY to the hospital. He dropped me off at the door and I waddled to the registration desk. I told the ladies that I was scheduled for a C-section at 10am but that baby had other plans for me, they registered me and then poked the crap out of my arms, 12 times. The funniest part of the whole story is the OB intern who kept popping in asking if I wanted to try to push this monster sized kid out. I informed her that if I did, future sexy-time relations would be like throwing a hot dog down a hall way and that I didn't want to rip my anus in two. They prepped me for that C-section pretty darn fast after that. I had prepared myself to get cut open, at this point I threw that stupid birth plan out the window and set it on fire because that's how useful it was to me.
Once in the ridiculously frigid operating room, they couldn't get my spinal going either. I couldn't stop having contractions long enough for me to bend over this gigantic basketball that was punching and kicking my lungs to get that sucker in place! Finally I grabbed the 4 foot tall Chinese OB doctor and wrapped myself around her until they finally got that thing in place. She wasn't happy about being touched, and I wasn't happy about the 5th attempt at a spinal and shooty, stabby pain down my legs. Shortly after, I had a panic attack, nearly threw up and they got to work. The hubs was let back in the room and he got to sit there and watch me silently cry in anticipation, fear and being pissed off about wasting so much time on that stupid birth plan! After what seemed like 45 years, they cut my baby out of my belly, showed this horrible looking, grey alien-child to me and whisked her out of the room. She was in distress and had pooped so they needed to do some interventions to her before she was out of danger. My hubs and I both did mental APGAR scores and it wasn't a good score for either of us. After the beebs was across the hall, she started screaming and never stopped from that moment on. The Teeny Child Doctor told me it was a good call on the C-section, and I was happy/relieved the holistic doctor agreed with my new decision of pirate gutting my child out instead of pushing that beast of a baby out.
I didn't get to see my baby for nearly 2 hours after her birth because of recovery for both of us and what not, so I was kind of anxious to see her screaming face. Months later I asked my LP what happened when they took her into the NICU and I went to recovery. He informed me that they washed her up, encouraged her to scream and then she defensively pooped on all the nurses. After being in the NICU for about 45 minutes and never stopping the screaming, they declared her healthy and angry and gave her back to the normal nursery. Soon after, I saw her little face and her temper. She was actually kicked out of the nursery later that night because she was keeping all the other babies awake. We should have known right then and there.....
After three sleepless days in the hospital, they discharged me and I am pretty sure I ran out of there as fast as I could. There were so many volunteers in and out of my room taking The Doodle for this test and that test that I couldn't get a moments peace with her or calm down enough to actually breast feed her. Who wants to whip out the boob while some random male porter is asking about a hearing test? It was a terrible hospital experience and I just wanted to be home; to bleed on my own sheets, to leak breast milk and colostrum in my own clothes and to be pooped on in my own house. Many of you know how volatile newborn poop is, I had yet to find out the true nature of "The Poop".
At Le Monster's 1 week check up, the doctor said she had quite a temper, which I took as, "please make your infant stop screaming and throwing a fit". Even the nurses commented on her defensive pooping skills and her Irish temper. She did have red hair when she was born.....
Through the horribleness of her birth and beginning, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I look back at how funny it seems now and how frighteningly tired I was, and I think about all the silly things we did together as just momma and baby. That little girl is my world and I would do everything in my power to make her happy, keep her safe and to make sure she is provided for. I can't imagine my life without her silly little personality, her huge heart, her beautiful smile and her hugs and kisses. She has brought me so much joy and taught me how to love her and myself at the same time. She makes me giggle at her little dances, her funny sayings and even the meltdowns! This has been the hardest things I have ever had to do but it has also been the most rewarding experience of my life.
Hip Hip HOORAY! Happy Birthday my darling daughter!
Love,
Momma <3
As I sit here watching my mini-me sitting in her Cabela's camp chair with her little feets up on the coffee table I think back to my pregnancy and her arrival. It's a long story but very hilarious. Read on.
When I found out I was pregnant, our hyperactive white dog wouldn't leave me alone. He is very perceptive and knew that I was pregnant before I knew. I thought, "Ok, either I have cancer or I am pregnant. I think I may take a pee test first before I freak out." Turns out, I had a bun in the oven. So after my shock came horror, "OMG I only have one fallopian tube, oh God.... is this going to be an ectopic pregnancy and blow out my tube?!!" So I frantically called the doctor to make an appointment with the doctor and somehow figure out how to tell my husband that we were going to be having a baby. I had done like 85 pee sticks and had them lined up in progression on the bathroom counter and asked my husband to go check on something in the bathroom. He came back and said, "sooooo..... what's this all about?" I said, "Well, I think we may be pregnant." "I'm no genius but these are all positive results here.... I think that's more of a possibility than not." I then told him my fears and he said that after all the praying that I have done, I would be fine because he had faith. I should always listen to my husband but I don't, this is an instance where he was completely right.
After all of the hub-bub of going to the crotch doctor and confirming I was pregnant and telling our parents, we were in complete and utter shock. How could we be this lucky? We were shocked and I kept thinking the bottom was going to drop out on us... guess what it did. My husband lost his job, I couldn't get full time employment and the Gub'ment said we made too much money for them to pay for my baby. It was ridiculous but I learned the power of couponing so it all worked out in the end.
That whole pregnancy sickness crap was so not accurate! I was sick every single day of that pregnancy until about 20 seconds before they cut me open to deliver Shrek-baby! I couldn't eat meat for whatever reason and eating meat and smelling meat made me toss my cookies like woah! It was so bad that my Bestie's puppy Sir Henry Spotswerth-Topplebottom got the brunt end of my all-freaking-day sickness. He had peed, pooped and vomited in his kennel when I went to get let him out to go potty after work one day and I had just made a pork roast. Let's just say I puked all over him, the front porch and possibly the neighbors cat. Ironically, when I got done crying, apologizing and bathing the dog, and I went out to clean up the porch and the neighbors cat it was mysteriously not disgusting and puke-ified out there. Either someone saw me toss my cookies or the neighbors cat is thorough. Jury is still out on that one.
I was also over due with my munchkin and they did an ultra sound to make sure everything was healthy and nothing was alarming or serious at that time. The doctor put Le Monster's picture up on the baby jumbo-tron, I started crying. My husband thought I was weeping with joy and said, "She's beautiful isn't she?!" I swiftly told him no that she looked like Shrek and my dad and she was going to be ugly. He calmed me down and told me it was going to be fine. The doctor on the other hand told me that I needed to have a C-section because there was no way I was delivering those shoulders naturally. As if I didn't have enough to worry about and to hell with my birth plan! That went right out the window when all I could think of was my whooo-haaa and all the terrible things that could happen with natural child birth and Shrek Baby. So we scheduled the C-section and went on with our business.
The Monday of the C-section I woke up with horrible "down there" pains and a burning, head against my pubis feeling so I got out of bed at 4am to go pee and start my day of leisurely planning for my baby's arrival. WRONG! I sat down to pee, leaned forward to completely empty my bladder, got done and stood up to find that my water had broke. I didn't realize it at the time because it was 4am, but my water had broke. I sat back down, it stopped gushing out, stood back up and pondered if I peed myself or if this was the real thing, then contractions started and I realized we needed to get to the hospital. My husband on the other hand was not concerned about time tables, pain or an urgency for clean underwear because he stood at the bathroom door eating a donut while green-tinged amniotic fluid was everywhere and all over my white bathmat. I asked him for a clean pair of underwear and he came back with a ratty old t-shirt for me to wear. I swiftly informed him I couldn't wear that on my butt and that I needed a new pair of underwear and we needed to go to the hospital right now. He continued to eat a donut in the doorway.
I got cleaned up, freaked out a bit and finally got my things around enough to slide on some shoes and go sit in the car. My LP eventually made it out there and drove like a CHURCH LADY to the hospital. He dropped me off at the door and I waddled to the registration desk. I told the ladies that I was scheduled for a C-section at 10am but that baby had other plans for me, they registered me and then poked the crap out of my arms, 12 times. The funniest part of the whole story is the OB intern who kept popping in asking if I wanted to try to push this monster sized kid out. I informed her that if I did, future sexy-time relations would be like throwing a hot dog down a hall way and that I didn't want to rip my anus in two. They prepped me for that C-section pretty darn fast after that. I had prepared myself to get cut open, at this point I threw that stupid birth plan out the window and set it on fire because that's how useful it was to me.
Once in the ridiculously frigid operating room, they couldn't get my spinal going either. I couldn't stop having contractions long enough for me to bend over this gigantic basketball that was punching and kicking my lungs to get that sucker in place! Finally I grabbed the 4 foot tall Chinese OB doctor and wrapped myself around her until they finally got that thing in place. She wasn't happy about being touched, and I wasn't happy about the 5th attempt at a spinal and shooty, stabby pain down my legs. Shortly after, I had a panic attack, nearly threw up and they got to work. The hubs was let back in the room and he got to sit there and watch me silently cry in anticipation, fear and being pissed off about wasting so much time on that stupid birth plan! After what seemed like 45 years, they cut my baby out of my belly, showed this horrible looking, grey alien-child to me and whisked her out of the room. She was in distress and had pooped so they needed to do some interventions to her before she was out of danger. My hubs and I both did mental APGAR scores and it wasn't a good score for either of us. After the beebs was across the hall, she started screaming and never stopped from that moment on. The Teeny Child Doctor told me it was a good call on the C-section, and I was happy/relieved the holistic doctor agreed with my new decision of pirate gutting my child out instead of pushing that beast of a baby out.
I didn't get to see my baby for nearly 2 hours after her birth because of recovery for both of us and what not, so I was kind of anxious to see her screaming face. Months later I asked my LP what happened when they took her into the NICU and I went to recovery. He informed me that they washed her up, encouraged her to scream and then she defensively pooped on all the nurses. After being in the NICU for about 45 minutes and never stopping the screaming, they declared her healthy and angry and gave her back to the normal nursery. Soon after, I saw her little face and her temper. She was actually kicked out of the nursery later that night because she was keeping all the other babies awake. We should have known right then and there.....
After three sleepless days in the hospital, they discharged me and I am pretty sure I ran out of there as fast as I could. There were so many volunteers in and out of my room taking The Doodle for this test and that test that I couldn't get a moments peace with her or calm down enough to actually breast feed her. Who wants to whip out the boob while some random male porter is asking about a hearing test? It was a terrible hospital experience and I just wanted to be home; to bleed on my own sheets, to leak breast milk and colostrum in my own clothes and to be pooped on in my own house. Many of you know how volatile newborn poop is, I had yet to find out the true nature of "The Poop".
At Le Monster's 1 week check up, the doctor said she had quite a temper, which I took as, "please make your infant stop screaming and throwing a fit". Even the nurses commented on her defensive pooping skills and her Irish temper. She did have red hair when she was born.....
Through the horribleness of her birth and beginning, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I look back at how funny it seems now and how frighteningly tired I was, and I think about all the silly things we did together as just momma and baby. That little girl is my world and I would do everything in my power to make her happy, keep her safe and to make sure she is provided for. I can't imagine my life without her silly little personality, her huge heart, her beautiful smile and her hugs and kisses. She has brought me so much joy and taught me how to love her and myself at the same time. She makes me giggle at her little dances, her funny sayings and even the meltdowns! This has been the hardest things I have ever had to do but it has also been the most rewarding experience of my life.
Hip Hip HOORAY! Happy Birthday my darling daughter!
Love,
Momma <3
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