On TV, the water breaks, the husband gets yelled at and blamed. In real life, that's fucking stupid. My water broke and I thought something exploded, had no idea what it was. Midwife got sprayed. That's just so gross. I can't imagine doing her job. Sooo, so gross. The same midwife got fucked at my birth multiple times.
Like the time toward the end when I was pushing and she tried to check my cervix to be sure that there wasn't a little lip of cervix left and while she was doing it I yelled at the top of my lungs "Get your fucking finger out of my TWAT!"
I heard the other midwife choke back a laugh.
I also never yelled at Rob. This was at least partially due to the fact that he used the strategy of listening to what the midwives said, watching for my reaction, and repeating the things I responded favorably toward. It worked. And I would never have known that's all he did either. Smart.
But I also never yelled at him because, I think that's stupid. Of course he got me into this. I told him to. I told him which days I thought he'd be most likely at being successful in knocking me up. I wanted a baby. Its not like I didn't know I'd be the one to labor and deliver. I just have never understood being mad at the man for it. He can't do shit about it. Except hold your hand and develop a strategy to try to help you out. I nearly broke Rob's hand I'm pretty sure. He didn't complain though. Smart.
The only time I yelled at Rob (ish) was at one point toward the end. The dog started licking my shoulder and I told him to get away. Rob thought I was talking to him and started to get up. "Not YOU! The dog. He's licking me." ChompSki was sent away. Rob had just changed the music and it turns out he knew he'd gotten the wrong thing and was trying to get up to remedy the situation. Next thing I knew, some shitty 80s classic rock was on. It was an awful song. And mid-collapse between contractions I said "What the fuck is this?"
That was me yelling. So it got changed to Toots and the Maytals and all was well again.
So after the birth, I had a tear and some other shit going on. Like, a HOLE in my labia. Both midwives said they'd never seen someone get a piercing out of birth, but here I am! Bullshit, I tell you.
So they start working on sewing my nanny-area, and I proceed to tell a skiing story to distract myself from what's happening to the girl downstairs.
A few years ago, we had a beautiful powder day. I got up and out on the hill for first chair. For anyone who does not ski, let me clarify that powder skiing is the best thing in the whole world. You float, you can try new tricks and jump off things you wouldn't otherwise. Because its soft. Its incredibly silly and fun and the whole vibe of the mountain is one of Christmas morning. Its people rushing to play and frolick and giggle and goof around.
So I was with some friends who I especially enjoy play time with, and we headed for some rocks they knew to jump off of.
I was game to hit the big rock, not sure how big but probably between 15-20' drop. I pointed my skis and hit it with confidence. Which usually means I land it.
Not so.
I don't know if my skis weren't tightened down hard enough or if I whacked something small in the landing or what, but one ski immediately ejected. The other stayed on.
One foot went through the snow. The other stayed on. Which meant that one ski's binding made a little go for my twat. It literally tried to fuck me. Probably about two inches to the left though. It didn't feel any too hot.
I took a minute to collect myself and then got up and got my gear back on and enjoyed the rest of the day. But my little girl swelled herself a goose egg that lasted for weeks.
So I tell this story thinking that it'll make me think of things I made it through just fine and distract me with thoughts of powder skiing and by the time I'm done, I should be done with the stitches.
When I finish, I realize the midwife's been listening and has not stitched me. Damnit. So then I proceed to heckle her while she DOES stitch me.
"You're not making all frankencrotch down there are you? I mean, you're not, like, sewing googly eyeballs into my snatch or anything, right? Cuz, this is taking a minute here."
I wonder if they normally have clients like me. I'm guessing not.
Like the time toward the end when I was pushing and she tried to check my cervix to be sure that there wasn't a little lip of cervix left and while she was doing it I yelled at the top of my lungs "Get your fucking finger out of my TWAT!"
I heard the other midwife choke back a laugh.
I also never yelled at Rob. This was at least partially due to the fact that he used the strategy of listening to what the midwives said, watching for my reaction, and repeating the things I responded favorably toward. It worked. And I would never have known that's all he did either. Smart.
But I also never yelled at him because, I think that's stupid. Of course he got me into this. I told him to. I told him which days I thought he'd be most likely at being successful in knocking me up. I wanted a baby. Its not like I didn't know I'd be the one to labor and deliver. I just have never understood being mad at the man for it. He can't do shit about it. Except hold your hand and develop a strategy to try to help you out. I nearly broke Rob's hand I'm pretty sure. He didn't complain though. Smart.
The only time I yelled at Rob (ish) was at one point toward the end. The dog started licking my shoulder and I told him to get away. Rob thought I was talking to him and started to get up. "Not YOU! The dog. He's licking me." ChompSki was sent away. Rob had just changed the music and it turns out he knew he'd gotten the wrong thing and was trying to get up to remedy the situation. Next thing I knew, some shitty 80s classic rock was on. It was an awful song. And mid-collapse between contractions I said "What the fuck is this?"
That was me yelling. So it got changed to Toots and the Maytals and all was well again.
So after the birth, I had a tear and some other shit going on. Like, a HOLE in my labia. Both midwives said they'd never seen someone get a piercing out of birth, but here I am! Bullshit, I tell you.
So they start working on sewing my nanny-area, and I proceed to tell a skiing story to distract myself from what's happening to the girl downstairs.
A few years ago, we had a beautiful powder day. I got up and out on the hill for first chair. For anyone who does not ski, let me clarify that powder skiing is the best thing in the whole world. You float, you can try new tricks and jump off things you wouldn't otherwise. Because its soft. Its incredibly silly and fun and the whole vibe of the mountain is one of Christmas morning. Its people rushing to play and frolick and giggle and goof around.
So I was with some friends who I especially enjoy play time with, and we headed for some rocks they knew to jump off of.
I was game to hit the big rock, not sure how big but probably between 15-20' drop. I pointed my skis and hit it with confidence. Which usually means I land it.
Not so.
I don't know if my skis weren't tightened down hard enough or if I whacked something small in the landing or what, but one ski immediately ejected. The other stayed on.
One foot went through the snow. The other stayed on. Which meant that one ski's binding made a little go for my twat. It literally tried to fuck me. Probably about two inches to the left though. It didn't feel any too hot.
I took a minute to collect myself and then got up and got my gear back on and enjoyed the rest of the day. But my little girl swelled herself a goose egg that lasted for weeks.
So I tell this story thinking that it'll make me think of things I made it through just fine and distract me with thoughts of powder skiing and by the time I'm done, I should be done with the stitches.
When I finish, I realize the midwife's been listening and has not stitched me. Damnit. So then I proceed to heckle her while she DOES stitch me.
"You're not making all frankencrotch down there are you? I mean, you're not, like, sewing googly eyeballs into my snatch or anything, right? Cuz, this is taking a minute here."
I wonder if they normally have clients like me. I'm guessing not.
I visited your blog because it came up on my 'homebirth' google alert and I just wanted to know that I've loved your posts. You seem awesome and I'm sure that you are the kind of client that makes midwifing fun!
ReplyDelete"Frankencrotch." Snort. I will giggle about that one a while.
ReplyDeleteAm so glad all went well! Congratulations.
I got frankencrotch from Lora at Fever. I use it all the time.
ReplyDeleteHeidi- thanks! Glad you enjoyed stopping by.