After a long exhausting day, I just crawled into bed with my baby girl, who turned 11 today. I held her and shared with her The Story of Her Birth. About how she was born at 1:15 in the morning, after 17 hours of labor. And how I begged the nurse to bring me a sandwich, or a saltine, ANYTHING, because I had not been allowed to eat anything since midnight, 25 hours prior.
The nurse not only brought me a sandwich, but also a piece of chocolate cake. Which I think that every new mother should receive after giving birth. The only problem was, the cake and subsequent chocolate overdose may have given me a bit of insomnia.
At about 3 AM, when I was settled in my bed, recovering from just pushing a football baby out of my girlie parts, the nurse handed me my bundle of joy. And then she left the room. And did not return until the next day.
I passed the time by pretending to nurse this baby, but not knowing at all what I was doing. And given the fact that THERE WAS NO MILK, well, everyone was frustrated. When the baby tired of this game, she fell blissfully asleep. And I was immobilized, unable to put her back in her bassinet. The nurse call button was too far away, I could not move for fear that I’d rip out the 245 (warning: slight exaggeration) stitches needed to put my girlie parts back together because WHAT LUCK, I do not have birthing hips. Fiddledaddy was happily snoring a few feet away, and I did attempt a few feeble “PSSSSTTTT. HEY YOU. WAKE UP AND HELP ME WITH THIS THING.” To no avail.
So I held my new sleeping baby until the nurse came back in. At dawn thirty.
I decided to keep my angel with me in the room for the remainder of our stay because that’s what a good mother should do. Right? So the next two nights were fraught with a screaming baby, changing diapers that were FILLED WITH SOME TAR SUBSTANCE THAT DID NOT LOOK AT ALL LIKE POOP, and faux nursing. Needless to say, by the time the nurse came to see what all the commotion was about, I was crying, Emme was screaming, and I wept to the nurse, “I have no idea what to do with him.” Him. He was a she. I was delirious. And had approximately 15 minutes of sleep in the last 4 days.
Let me pause to share that when the next child came along, I informed the nurse to take her away to the nursery after nursing, and not to bring her back until college it was time for her next feeding. I also had Fiddledaddy ply me with contraband Pop-Tarts during labor.
I shared only the highlights of The Birth Story with my Emme tonight as I held her before saying goodnight. But believe me, the entire saga was playing in my head. Then I told her how beautiful she was, and how she made us into a family, and that she is a joy to us, and that we love her forever and ever.
And then I tiptoed from her room. Wishing I could have a big piece of chocolate cake. Because I think every mom deserves a piece of chocolate cake on each of her children’s birthdays. Washed down by a glass of Choco-Vine. I am not asking for too much.
Can I hear an amen?
Have a wonderful weekend, everyone!!!!