Baby World Domination plan uncovered!

I have intercepted and translated this encrypted message from Tilly’s play-n-go laptop to an undetermined Leap Frog.

From: Commander Puppy Dog Eyes (Ottilia)

RE: Progress of World Domination Campaign

Plans for baby world domination are proceeding on schedule.  Double agents Toopy and Binoo, Mickey Mouse, and the Cat in Hat have successfully planted earworms in all vicinity ADULTs (Adorner of Dinner, Undressing, Love, and Tickles), incapacitating their ability to discover our campaign.

In the realm of personnel (aka “cousins”), in addition to Captain Piggytails (Elsa), Corporal Linebacker (Austin), and the Dynamic Duo of Destruction (Caleb and Eli), we have been successful in the recruitment of new agents.  The newest member of our strike force is Private Sleepyhead (Hudson) – he is still green, but I believe he will be a worthy addition.  My personal success has come in bringing Lieutenant Pokey Eater (London) into the fold upon her birth this past June. As she is my uncle JJ and Auntie M’s baby girl, we are often in close vicinity and thus I am able to help hone her skills. She is a natural – turning her big eyes on everyone and developing chubby ADULT kryptonite kissy cheeks, but can drink a bottle slower than any other baby in the history of the world.  I believe it would behove us to cultivate this talent and perhaps have the Lieutenant teach the technique to future candidates.

Upon internet research and personal experimentation, it is confirmed that breakdown technique “SLEEP IS EVIL” has been successful with every ADULT encountered.  Thanks to this highly effective torture device, the ADULTs will cave to our demands ad hoc in exchange for a solid 8 hours of shut eye.  Might I recommend that in preparation, we have worldwide popcorn twists, popsicle, and arrowroot cookie factories step-up production.

I have also come to observe there are various subsections of the ADULT creature.  There are the parental units – these saps seem to be most at our whims. My Mommy Shannon continues to feed and play with me, even while I see how far I can push her with such methods as poke-in-the-eye-with-a-lego and kick-in-her-boob-hard-enough-to-invert-it, yet she still comes back for more.

Grandparents are especially prone to “sucker” tendencies.  They will pick you up and seem to have no qualms about sneaking babies “off-limits” foods such as ice cream and cake.  While they seem to enjoy a weird game called golf all summer, I am looking into how to make it unappealing to them so they will have to spend more time catering to the whims of their tiny baby overlords. Perhaps if we make it more and more difficult, maybe so they constantly lose the tiny balls they will lose interest? I will keep you updated on my progress of experimentation.

Other than that, it seems like worldwide Baby Domination is filtering down to the masses.  Treehouse TV and the Disney Jr. channel have proven to be excellent propaganda devices.  Separation from the rest of the child race with our own Babies R Us brand is the perfect cover for new bases of operations – nothing like hiding in plain sight!  Fools!  The development of increasingly cute and irresistible baby outfits have ensured that extra ADULT resources are spent catering to our fashion needs.

All in all, high command, we are right on schedule here in Regina.  Will keep up with the status quo and will inform you of any changes and developments.

Merry Christmas and happy New Year to you and your indentured servants.

Now if you’ll excuse me… it’s time for me to get a tummy tickle.

These Double D's are duds!

Well, I figured out how to transfer over my pregnancy blog, so here I go again, returning to the world of my blogging.  Sorry if some sentences don't make sense - sleep is very minimal nowadays...

Where we left off, I have given birth to the beautiful Ottilia.  I'm finished and I am exhausted like I have never been before.  In the blur of exhaustion, off they wheel me to the Mommy Baby ward - of course, by now, not only am I famished, but so is a certain tiny human.  Well, I think, time for an adulthood full of lower back pains and super strength bras to pay off.  I mean, these gazoongas look like I could feed quadruplets off them! 

Nurse comes over and pulls down my gown to pull out a boob (and I don't even care anymore).  She looks at Lefty with a critical eye.  Uh, your nipple's inverted.  No kidding - been like that since I was a teenager, but Lefty is a big girl, so this should be fine, right? Hmm... Nurse pulls out Righty McGee... this nipple's not as bad, let's stick her on here.   After some fighting with a very sleepy brand new Tilly, she's on sucking away.  Whoa.  This feels friggin' weird.  She comes off, smacks her lips and on to try Lefty again.  No Dice.  Well, this is not the easy "throw baby on the boob"ness I was expecting.

Nurse tells me not to worry, she'll send the lactation consultant aka "Boob Nazis" (I made up that title, not the nurses - it's a more accurate description).  Just about asleep... VISITORS!  Who doesn't wanna see Tillster?  Oh, now in comes lactation consultant.  She is manhandling my boobs like they're gonna pay out a jackpot in Vegas, trying everything with Tilly and football holds and making my nipples into a "hamburger" (For those of you who've seen Puppetry of the Penis, same idea kinda but with boob-age).  Tilly doesn't seem to be buying what we're selling, although this is her very first day outside of Mommy and she's one tired little girl.  This goes on with every time I have to feed her, I have to buzz a nurse and hear how what the last nurse said was wrong and what they think I should do. 

Day two in the hospital.  I only know it's day two because it's light outside again, not because I've slept.  Just when I thought I got the hang of popping Tilly on the feed bags, she's rebelling.  Meet with new lactation consultant who I've been warned by a few people (including the woman who comes into clean my room!) that she makes the other lactation consultant look easy going.  She comes in and in a word, she is OVERWHELMING. She is very loud and in my face about the breast feeding (people who know me that someone has to be pretty hard core if I find them loud).  She's breaking out all the stops, walking in with her binder and flipping through stuff and pointing out how much better boobie juice is than formula and on and on.  I felt like saying, hey lady, couldn't you just leave me a brochure about "So your fun bags are letting you down" with a frowning boob on the front?  I have had almost no sleep and you think I am even processing this?  Lactation consultant is in and out all day and she says she thinks I should stay another night so we can work on this again in the morning because nipples are still playing hide and go seek and the milk just ain't kicking in.  I am too weak and my stitches still are killing me, so I figure, why the hell not. 

New night nurse.  I don't like her.  I buzz her about coming into help me with the baby and she is downright offended by what I tell her the lactation consultant has told me and when baby girl is crying because she's hungry and she's screaming with her mouth open, night nurse is literally shoving her little face into my boob.  I'm like, I think if she's so worked up, she won't latch and get the withering "you don't know what you're talking about you silly new mom in that ridiculous hospital nightgown" look and get told just to do it.  Hmm.  Well this is fun - if today is opposite day.  Another night with not so much sleep.

Next day in comes my OB. She sits on my bed and tells me not to worry about the BF (that's breast feeding if you're one of the cool La Leche people on the baby websites). Says it didn't work out for her and she even got in a yelling match with one of the lactation consultants over it. That makes me giggle a little and wish I had been a fly on the wall for that one!  She leaves about the same time as the leader of the BF Cult comes in.  Here we are again, with her whipping out the boobers and squeezing and manipulating and shoving baby girl into the nipple.  Honestly, if I was Tilly, I would be getting mighty bitter by now - even if it was cheesecake or my beloved ice cream, if someone kept shoving my face in it while I was upset, even I would eventually want nothing to do with it.  Okay, maybe not permanently, but at least for a good few hours. Actually, it kinda depends on the flavour. Well, maybe I would still eat it, but I wouldn't really enjoy it fully. 

Lactation Nazi decides that we're gonna try the electric pump and maybe then the nipples will come out a little, the milk will start coming and Tilly won't get so frustrated.  What the hell - in for a penny, in for a pound.  She brings it in and in my delirious over-tired state, I just want to laugh.  The thing reminds me of the milking machines the put on cows and then I realize - that is EXACTLY what I am trying to become.  We put the suction cones on the "girls" and get a pumping.  I sit there for 15 minutes and get a grand total of... about 10 ml.  That's 2 teaspoons.  WTF?!  Try to put Tilly on the boob again - she half-heartedly latches and then, like she senses the boob guru has left, wiggles and snuggles herself under her boobie blanket and promptly... falls asleep.

So day 3 in the hospital involves me pumping and trying to get baby onto the boob with no success and the decision is made that I should spend just one more night... Well, the baby decides it's time to pull out all the stops - she is a constant source of wailing and crying, with me pumping my measly amount of milk and the nurse "finger feeding" it to her - I notice them topping up my breast milk and ask what it is - sterile water, they say... to fill her tummy.  Me too tired to fight or even fully register what they are saying... whole night is pump, eat snack, pee, try to sleep, bath to clean stitches, and back to pumping...

Next morning, I put my foot down.  Me and my girl are going home TODAY.  Nurse comes into weigh her and informs me with a smug look - we'll see, because she's lost 10% of her body weight - and then she prances out of my room.  Takes a moment for it to fully register and very lucky for that nurse that it did or she would've got my  newly discovered mama bear-ness all over her ass. 

WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S LOST 10%!? So last night, instead of, God forbid, giving me what you people seem to think is devil's cocktail aka formula, you gave her WATER and now she's lost this much weight?  My poor dad has been up all night with me and I am fuming.  Call Mom and Tyler - we're coming home today and you need to go get the breast pump and dammit, pick up some formula!

Doctor comes in and says me and Tilly are free to fly the coop - good thing too because I'm already out of bed, packed, and have Tilly's going home outfit ready to put on her (and, as an aside, my stash of "liberated" diapers - keep me in here for 4 days and I was bound to discover your hiding place).

Home we go and I try pumping and feeding Tilly, with a little formula to top her off and she gloriously goes into a baby sleeping coma. I stumble up the stairs to bed. I collapse on the bed in the attractive starfish position.  A few hours later, Mom comes to wake me up because Tilly needs to be fed again.  I croak out the word of my saviour... Formula... and back to sleep I go.

And that was that... As the epilogue (like I'm writing some fancy novel), I kept pumping but never ever could I get enough milk for baby girl.  Then I got a UTI and the medi-clinic I went to gave me an antibiotic that could be transmitted through the milk, giving her thrush.  That is when I figured this was a flashing neon sign from the universe to say F*K THIS and Tillster's been a formula baby ever since.  And she's perfect.

It ain't called LABOUR cuz it's easy - PART 3

Well the princess seems to be appeased at the moment, so it's time for the final countdown of Ottilia Leokadia's labour story...

Where we left off, it's about 4:30am.  I am in the hospital, screaming / begging for an epidural.  The nurse comes in and has me strip the whole way down to the leave-nothing-to-the-imagination open backed hospital gown. Frankly Scarlet, I just don't give a damn.  If my butt is showing, so is my back and to me, that's where the epidural goes, so this must mean that needle is coming soon!  Realize the irony of this - NEVER in my life, have I begged for a needle.  My history as a human pincushion seems to evaporate in favour of pain relief.  I wonder if pain medication came in the form of a pork chop if I would suddenly beg for my least favourite food too? OWWWWWWWWW... LESS PONDERING, MORE BEGGING! PLEASE GET ME THE DUDE WHO GIVES ME THE THINGIE TO MAKE ME HAPPY! (at this point, anesthesiologist is just too long a word for my primal brain to say)

Tyler appears in the room... Hi honey - OWWWW - Tyler makes the mistake of giving me his hand.  I seem to have developed the crushing power of a Kung Fu master.  Tyler's face turns some fascinating colour.  Hmmm... No more human hands - must find a rail or some inanimate object to grab.  Hello bed rails.  OWWWWWWWWW - Is it weird I swear I heard my bed cry?  I now understand the story of years ago, the iron rails in delivery rooms that got bent by women in labour - it doesn't seem like it would be difficult at all at this point in time.  WHERE IS MY F*ING EPIDURAL?!?

About 5:15, the anesthesiologist finally makes his way in - at this point, I am torn between hugging the man and strangling him for taking so long.  He's got this strong accent that funny enough, reminds me of Borat or some sort of other comedian-inspired character - that is, until he kicks my Mommy out of the room.  WTF?  Apparently, his experience is that mommies have a hard time watching the big bad needle go in their little girl's back, so he doesn't even want her in there - again, good thing there is no bed pan in close proximity.

So Momma leaves and Mr. Borat tells me I have to sit on the edge of the bed, with my back curved, leaning on the nurse while he puts in the needles.  NEEDLES?  Apparently, there's a first one that burns that makes room for the big boy that brings the pain medication.  And one more thing - DON'T even think of moving!  No matter how bad the contraction, how much it hurts, I have to remain perfectly still like a Shanny statue.  DEAL - JUST GET ON WITH IT!

The nurse puts a chair under my feet so I can put them somewhere, I try to open my knees wide enough for my belly to go between them, and curve my back as much as I can.  CRAP HERE COMES A CONTRACTION AGAIN.... try to go to Zen happy place - must not move.  Must not move.  Contractions keep coming and I feel the burning from needle one.  Then the dude complains that my epidural doesn't wanna go in.  Must stay in the position.  Another burning needle, more complaining that maybe I need to curve my back more - I LOOK LIKE THE F*ING HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME!  More contractions, still can't move.  This feels like medieval torture.  Third try with another burning needle.  Third time that he seems to miss.  THIS GUY IS MORE BORAT THAN I WANTED IN AN ANESTHESIOLOGIST!  Finally, it seems that fourth try's a charm.  He leaves the room muttering.  I decide that this is a great place to forgive the man because at least it's in... OWWWWWW!  WHY IS IT STILL HURTING?!?  Nurse says it takes a little bit for the epidural to kick in.  IT BETTER KICK IN FAST - I WAS IN THAT STATUE POSITION FOR OVER HALF AN HOUR!

It's now about 5:55am.  Mommy's back.  Contractions are coming fast to the point that the nurse doesn't even ask Tyler to use his fancy new iPhone app to time them.  Need water.  Shit, I'm at the no-water point of delivery - only ice chips.  Ty becomes my ice chip bitch.  6am: OWWWW - epidural not working.  Nurse says to wiggle my toes. Done no problem.  WHY ISN'T IT WORKING YET? Nurse says that it should kick in in about 5 or 10 minutes.  So at 5 minute intervals, I am screaming, begging, and near tears because my toes are still wiggling and the pain is still pain-ing.  Nurse keeps telling me that just another 5 or 10 minutes until we hit 6:35 and I scream, IT'S BEEN 45 MINUTES!  WHAT THE HELL?!  The nurse looks at the clock and then checks me "down there", only to find I'm already dilated to 9cm.  You see her take a deep breath because of the extremely hard thing she has to tell me next - she has the look on her face of a TV doctor giving me bad news... Well, you see Shannon, sometimes, when labour progresses too fast, the epidural doesn't work.

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT DOESN'T WORK?  GET ME OTHER PAIN MEDICATION RIGHT NOW!  WHERE'S THAT LAUGHING GAS?  WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S TOO LATE FOR ANY MEDICATION?!?  I HAVE TO HAVE A (gasping to get the words and the idea through my head) NATURAL CHILDBIRTH?!?

You have to understand.  Some women have extremely detailed birth plans. Mine consisted of two words.  Pain medication.

Now here I am, almost completely dilated and the urge to push comes upon me like nothing I've ever felt before - almost like Montezuma's revenge on steroids (I worked in Mexico - me and Monty are old acquaintances) combined with passing a kidney stone.  Tell/scream to the nurse that I have to push - she tells me how I can't because my water hasn't broken yet.  Oh I forgot about that in all this insanity.  Shit.  Legs up in stirrups and someone (to this day, I don't remember who it was) suddenly stuck their hand up me down THERE, and then there was what felt like a tidal wave of warm liquid come pouring out of me onto these strategically place Bounty-strength pads placed under me. Picture the equivalent of drinking 3 or 4 Super Big Gulps and then laughing so hard you pee yourself.  Not that it's ever happened to me, but it's what I imagine it would be like...

So now to recap, the water has broken, I'm fully dilated, and I have a completely useless epidural needle in my back with the painful urge to push coming fast and furious.  I'm on my back in the always attractive stir-up position. Nurse mentions that the baby never dropped so I'm gonna have to push her all the way - WHAT THE F*K?!  THIS WAS ALSO NEVER MENTIONED AS A POSSIBILITY BEFORE!  It's 6:45 and the urge to push comes and now I am pushing for my life with everything I have.  At baby school, Sally told us to make sure we relax between pushes - you mean there's women that can't?!  In between, I basically collapse on the bed and bark "ICE" to Tyler so he keeps shoveling the ice chips in to my dry-as-the-desert mouth.   My back is killing me!  Turns out, the baby isn't in the exact right facing position so my labour acrobatics must begin.

First, the nurse has me turn on my side with my top leg up in the air and the nurse and my mom alternating having to hold it up so I push "into my bum" instead of "into my leg" - WHAT THE F*K EVER!   ICE!  After a half an hour or so of this position, now the nurse wants me in an even more flattering position. She raises the back of my bed to be completely vertical, and I sit up facing it, leaning over top of the back while raised up on my knees to push, with my ass in full view for the entire room to see. ICE! As a side note, it really is amazing how much you just don't give even a tiny itty bitty f*k about who sees your bits and pieces.  To be honest, I don't even know why I was in my paper ass-less wonder of a gown because it was only really covering my shoulders and occasionally a boob.

So I'm in the ass out position for a while and now it's time to go to the other side - TYLER. ICE. NOW. These ice chips would be some much better if they were in lime margarita form.  Then I probably wouldn't care that the epidural didn't work and maybe I'd at least earn some beads for the amount of people I'm flashing in this delivery room. 

My nurse tells me she's going off shift and introduces me to new nurse.  What do you mean there's a shift change?  Make a big mistake.  Look at the clock.  I'VE BEEN PUSHING FOR OVER AN HOUR - it's 8am!  As an aside, I start to wonder, where the f*k is the doctor?  I had a vision of a doctor delivering my baby, but this nurse has done everything, not even stopping for a pee break or anything.  OWWWWWWWWW HAVE TO PUSH AGAIN - FORGOT NEW NURSE'S NAME... JUST YELL "NEW NURSE!  NEED YOU!!" - better than get the f*k over here now, don't you think?

Well I guess little Tilly has gotten herself turned around because a little while later, I'm back on my back and the doctor has come in - it's about 8:30.  ICE!  Still pushing.  Getting sooooooooo tired.  I can FEEL her at the end of the birth canal - it's like the biggest poop of my LIFE is stuck down there.  My mom and Tyler and watching DOWN THERE with their eyes as big as saucers.  Apparently, it starts to open up a little and then close - like Sally said in baby school, two steps forward, one step back. I know they are starting to see her head.  I start begging the doctor to just take her out now.  YOU CAN SEE HER HEAD, CAN'T YOU JUST GRAB HER?!? Doctor smiles and just tells me to keep pushing.  I think I may have started crying - or that can be just what I remember.  New nurse asks me if I want to reach down and feel her coming out - NO!! I NEED TO CONCENTRATE!  MUST NOT GET DISTRACTED!!

Finally, I have the biggest push I've ever done - I can feel my face going purple and about 3 veins popping out of my forehead and SWOOSH - suddenly it's not tight down there any more, I feel another gush of liquid, and the doctor, in one swoop, has Tilly out of me and lying on my tummy.  Here she is - my baby girl and she's... PERFECT.  She's pink and there's barely any blood on her - she's just the most beautiful tiny human I have ever seen. 

I know other stuff happened, like her umbilical cord got cut by Tyler and I had to push out the placenta (which felt like a jellybean after the watermelon of Tilly-kins), but I didn't care.  New nurse then came to take Tilly to be cleaned up and her vitals taken while I got stitches DOWN THERE.  Doctor keeps telling me to keep my bum on the table as she proceeds to give me what looks like more stitches than if they were reattaching a digit.  I keep looking at tiny perfect human. 

She comes back to me and the doctor finishes the sew job - I think it's easier because the baby has distracted me.  I can't believe it - I did it.  And here she it, my tiny human...

So there it is - the story of my darling daughter's birth.  I will still keep blogging because already, there has been more things happen in the few weeks she's been out in the world than I ever would've imagined... And for people who've never had them, yes, the stitches SUCK!

It ain't called LABOUR 'cuz it's easy - PART 2

Where we left off, our heroine had been sent home, turned out from the hospital aka home of the pain medication.  Hi morphine - you're fun... wanna hang out and become my BFF?!

Get home about 2:30am and now I need to navigate the stairs.  I feel like a co-ed who just went to her first kegger - the stairs are looking mighty comfy...  Arms behind me propelling me to bed.  Hello bed - I love you. Fall face first onto mattress.  Pass out in the attractive one leg practically on the floor, mouth open with drool coming out and my arms starfished out to my sides.  I guess this is what I've been missing for 9 months since I couldn't drink? Everyone's off to bed - slight feeling of defeat once again.  Thought for sure this was it.  Oh well, at least I have December 5th's induction date to look forward to.

About 3:15, wake up with a start.  Holy crap!!  I feel like I need to take a really big... well, crap. Into the bathroom I go, being careful not to wake anyone up.  DAMMIT!  Nothing is coming out.  Let's try a bath - nope, not helping.  Hmm... did I take my Metamucil today?  Yes...  Well WTF?  Out of the tub, back on the "water closet" - interesting.  The pre-morphine pains are making a comeback like NKOTB.

Pooping urges are coming fast and furious - uh-oh.  The steak for dinner seems to be fighting me and... OH SHIT!  I'M ON THE TOILET AND I NEED TO THROW UP!  Hello bathtub...  Wow, even with my very worst hangover, I've never seen vomit like that...  Morphine giveth and morphine taketh away - with this puke-apalooza, the morphine is wearing off fast - OH THIS REALLY HURTS MORE THAN A POOP!!  MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...

It's now just about 4am - Momma calls the Labour and Delivery evil geniuses.  Apparently, with their magnificent 20/20 hindsight, they admit they probably shouldn't have sent me home.  Tell Momma to bring me back to the hospital.  Wake up Tyler and Dad, who can both sleep through anything, including a pregnant woman yelling, tell them we're going to the hospital to see if I am in actual labour this time and if I am, then Ty can come to the hospital.

Get into the car.  FRONT SEAT IS TOO STRAIGHT!!  I NEED TO GO IN THE BACK WHERE I CAN CONVULSE AND LAY DOWN!! Get to the hospital. I WANT A FRIGGIN' WHEELCHAIR! My poor mother is practically running down the hallway to the elevators - WHY ARE THE ELEVATORS SO F*ING FAR?! Get to Labour and Delivery - they throw me right back into the exact same room I vacated a mere 2 hours ago. 

Shannon, put your feet together and let your knees relax - NOT THIS A F*ING AGAIN!  Hmmm... Appears you're dilated to 3cm.  Congratulations, you're in labour.  I COULD'VE TOLD YOU THAT! (look around for a bedpan to throw - no luck).  Realization strikes - 3cm means I can get an epidural.  Start telling / yelling at anyone in a pair of scrubs that looks like they may be able to help me, I WANT AN EPIDURAL RIGHT NOW!  Yes Shannon, we will just get you admitted and sent to a delivery room and we'll get you your epidural - LESS PLACATING ME, MORE PAIN MEDICATION!

Mom needs to call Tyler so he can be here!  Nurse looks at Mom - there's no rush for him to get here... She's over 35 and it's her first baby - this baby's not coming for HOURS.  Oh yeah, because you guys have been so accurate to this point. Let's just be safe and get him here NOW. 

What is taking so long for this admitting and epidural-ing to happen? 

Time for Mommy to take another writing break - the benevolent dictator Ottilia has decided that the bassinet is no longer acceptable and that the Mommy needs to cuddle her now.  Only 18 years of indentured servitude left to go.

It ain't called LABOUR 'cuz it's easy - PART 1

Good news - woke up and still have a baby as opposed to still being pregnant, so now back to our regularly scheduled programming...

Where we left off, I was sore.  Being sore really doesn't seem that weird, but it felt... different.  I know, I know.  Way to be vague Shan.  The closest thing I can think of is that it reminded me of eating a bad taco and how your stomach is just sore while it tries to decide whether to throw it up or push it on through to the intestines.  But not exactly, just kind of...

Then, about 11:30 - quarter to 12, the pains took on a life of their own.  It was sore and then it got more sore and more sore until OH MY GOD THIS FRIGGIN' HURTS to a little less sore and a little less, and then A LOT MORE HURT!!!!!!!!!!! This went on for a while and I did the only thing I could think of - I went to the toilet.  I'm being blunt here and not pulling any punches, because, really, how else could I make it sound nice while still being accurate?  "I visited the water closet whilst spritzing lavender water and singing the soundtrack to 'Oklahoma'?"

Anyhoo, after a few very uncomfortable minutes on the abode, I wipe to find blood - quite a bit of blood - and looking into the toilet-y abyss, I see what I've described before as a ginormous booger-like substance.  Hmmm...  Me thinks this is the elusive "mucus plug" or in flowery niceties, "the gelatinous precursor to birth."  Wake up Mom.  Show her gelatinous precursor and bloody TP.  Not much help - crap, where's Sally, my pre-natal baby class teacher when I need her?!?

Uh-oh - standing not so good.  Now the soreness waves are coming faster and hurting more, but still no breaks in between.  I remember paying very close attention to the description of contractions in baby school and Sally said there was a peak and then relaxation.  WHERE THE F*K IS THE RELAXATION PART?  Wake up Tyler, grab packed yoga bag - maybe we better go to the hospital just in case.

Into the car with the 3 of us and the pain is getting worse - this has got to be labour! Although me and Sally are definitely gonna have a talk about the promise of relaxation breaks.  Get to the hospital, into emergency, whisked up to the "Labour and Birth" ward and hand them the pregnancy papers I've been walking around with for a month or so.

The resident looks at the papers and says I need to go to an exam room so they can decide if they're going to admit me.  YOU MEAN THERE'S A QUESTION?!?!? The resident tells me to undress, I get helped onto the bed, and get told to put the soles of my feet together as close to my bum as possible, then relax my knees so they can check if I'm dilated... and then the resident shoves her F*ING FIST UP "THERE" MAKING THE PREVIOUS DAY'S RIM JOB SEEM LIKE A F*ING TIP TOE THROUGH THE TULIPS!!!! (Exasperated) Shannon, keep your knees relaxed. HOW ABOUT YOU COME UP HERE AND RELAX YOUR KNEES WHILE I SHOVE A FIST UP YOUR TWAT?!?

Resident: Shannon, you're not in labour. You're only 1 cm dilated.
Me: Excuse me?
Resident:  This is a side effect of having your membranes stripped
Me: Uh, this friggin' hurts and that was done at 9:30 this morning (while thinking - you are on crack lady.  Someone bring me Meredith Grey from Grey's Anatomy and she'll tell me I'm in labour)
Resident: That can happen.  Gonna give you some morphine and send you home.
Me: GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR (but don't say anything because I really want the morphine.  It's the closest thing I have to a birth plan - pain medication and lots of it.)

So the needle comes (whoopee) and I get shot up with some of the good stuff.  About 15 minutes later, the pain waves have changed to complete, blissful oblivion, like when you've drank your weight in margaritas and tequila poppers.  The pain waves may very well still exist, but now I just don't give a damn.  Told to lay in the bed for a while 'til they know I'm okay.  I hear the nurse, but for some reason I have a big smile on my face and think she's actually a character from a Pixar film.  I don't know which one, maybe a to-be-released film "Toy Story 5" where Buzz and Woody are replaced Pokey the needle and Splashy the bed pan.

An hour later, the nurse comes in to the room to tell me they've gotten busy and need the bed and staff so they're gonna send me home now.  JUST IN CASE, they give the phone number of Labour and Delivery to my mom and I get kicked to the curb.  Tyler comes in the room because along with my cartoon fantasies, my legs seem to have a bit of a mind of their own and walking is not on the top of their priority list.

So at about 2:15am, I'm wheeled out of the hospital and sent home to "sleep it off"...

Gotta stop for a bit there... time to get up and pump for the muffin cup aka. put on the milking machine.  Wow I wish someone had told me about the glamorous stuff I got to do when I became a Mommy.

Waiting for Tilly...

Yes, I know Tilly's already here, but thought I should probably write the blog that I intended to write on Saturday morning, oh, about the time I was pushing her out...

Have you ever had something you were so sure that was going to happen and when it didn't, you were completely taken by surprise, like all of sudden you woke up one day and the sky was tangerine?!  That is what happened to me with Tilly.  Don't ask me why, but for some reason, the WHOLE time I was pregnant, I was sure she was gonna come early.  I didn't know how early, but I figured this was one of those instinct things like how I was pretty sure Tilly was a girl before the ultrasound confirmed it (well, except for that "nightmare" around week 33 when I had a nightmare that my little girl suddenly was a boy and I had nothing but pink stuff and frilly dresses for him - panicked enough that I made the ultrasound tech re-check at my last ultrasound).

Anyhoo, right from the get go, I was just so sure she was gonna come early - to the point that I was worried she would come out before my time at work was up.  So then, a week and a half before my due date, I went on mat leave.  Perfect. All I figured every day was, well, she can come now.  And then every day, I slept right through the night.  No contractions.  No water breaking. Not even the mucus plug (boys and anyone else who's never seen it - think of a giant huge marble-size booger.  Sorry, can't think of something less gross to explain it)

Day before her due date (Monday Nov 21)... Oh!  Maybe this is it!!  DAMN - just needed to take a big dump.  Off to my family doctor aka. the nicest doctor and possibly person I've ever met.  He's got huge smiles and I think he's almost as excited about her imminent arrival as I am.  He measures her and guess her at 8.5 pounds.  All I can think is, okay muffin, you can come out now.  Mommy doesn't want more than a 9 pound baby coming out of there and I need you to still be able to put on some of your adorable newborn clothes!

Get home and that's it - off to the reflexologist.  Charlie's been saying that he's got a pretty good success rate getting stubborn babies to come out.  Off I go and he massages and pokes and prods my feet and my ankles... Hurts, so something must be happening!!  Just to cover my bases, stop on the way home at the health food store to buy red raspberry leaf tea and some castor oil* - sure they're old wive's tales, but she needs to be born by her due date because I was SURE she would be.

Dawn of due date.  Wake up.  Feel tummy.  Feel Tilly kicking away.  Is it just me or is she kicking harder?  Maybe she's trying to Chuck Norris kick her way out?  Should I be shining a flashlight up there to show her the way out?  Tyler tries to give her a pep talk.   Interesting.  Did I just imagine it, or did she just laugh at me?  Not one of the gee-this-clown-is-funny kind of laughs.  More of the you-mere-mortals-think-you-can-get-me-to-do-what-you-want? kind of laughs.  Get the chills.  Better call acupuncturist and massage therapist.  Can't get in until Monday, Nov. 28.  Dammit, this child is kicking my ass in this intense battle of wills.

Wake up Wednesday morning.  New idea - gonna try the "Murphy's Law" method of induction.  Go shopping to buy all the stuff I need to do a bunch of Christmas baking the next day - gingerbread, sugar cookies, maybe even nanaimo bars.  This is gonna work - Murphy's Law is like the Secret - oh, so powerful, sending the vibes out into the universe.

Wake up Thursday morning, sigh, and go to the kitchen and actually do Christmas baking.  Curses, this girl is seeing right through me!!  New plan of attack.  Right now, she's like a diva, in her dressing room, refusing to come out because everyone is catering to her, talking and trying to cajole her on to the stage.  Time to try to reverse psycologise this baby.  We're not gonna talk to her and beg her to come out today.  Nope, she's gonna be so pissed, she'll storm right out of my uterus. This plan is brilliant!

Wake up Friday morning.  Damn, that plan was stupid.  Time to head to the OB for the appointment I only made because the receptionist made me because Ottilia was supposed to be here by now.  Get there and the first thing my OB does is discuss the possibility of induction.  I feel so defeated - you win baby.  I sign the release form and sign the paper, scheduling it for December 5th.  The OB says, that's if she's not already here.  I smile weakly and say sure, "IF".  Then the OB offers to thin my cervical membranes aka "the rim job" - wow and I thought pap smears were unpleasant.  This is pap smear times 100.  Oh Shannon, you may have some mild cramping and spotting, so don't worry about it.

Now I just go on about my day as if I'm not even pregnant - sure, I still waddle like the March of the Penguins, but I am a woman thoroughly defeated. I guess this is one of those things where I just have to give up on my certainty, like someone handing me the keys to a beautiful all-expenses paid villa in Southern Spain.  Ain't happening.

All day, feeling little pangs, but no big deal - nothing new. About 11pm, feeling... sore.  No cramps, no water breakage.  Just... sore.

Okay now this is my season cliff hanger... Can't say anymore until the next post because I don't wanna take anything away from the big blockbuster labour story.  It's epic but mommy needs to have a sleep now...  Please don't let this be like that 80's show Dallas and I'll wake up still pregnant...


* Got home and looked up stuff about taking Castor oil - waaaaaay too scary about the stuff that could happen to baby.  Figured I could wait so if anyone needs a bottle of castor oil...

Braxton Hicks are jerks

So now I really truly get it.  Yes, not getting to have some of the things I love (sushi and sangria, for example) sometimes makes pregnancy seem like FOREVER.  Thanks to the last 2 weeks though, I get why in the third trimester, I am already tying to bribe, cajole, and trick this baby to come out of me.

Braxton Hicks contractions suck ass.  Sorry to be so blunt, but there's really no other way to put it.  John Braxton Hicks in 1872 got these named after him so forever after, he is on my "List".  Of course they're named after a man.  Sigh.

Books and baby sites make it sound like they're a walk in the park - a slight tightening of the uterus.  Bullshit.  Take your period cramps.  Take the worst one you ever had times about 5. Now imagine that every night for weeks with no end in sight.  It's not like I get them constantly, but a good 3 or 4 a night seems to be par for the course until I give up whatever I am doing and go to bed.  I can almost hear the Braxton Hicks contractions laughing at me - haha, we have made her bend to our will once again.  Like I said, they're totally jerks, akin to those douchebag ex-boyfriends that almost all of us had at one time or another.

Now Braxton Hicks didn't come alone to this party.  Oh no, that would be "ruining his rep." He brought along his equally douche-y buddy, Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction. Never heard of it?  Me either until my last doctor appointment.  You see, while getting the lovely Braxton Hicks contractions every night like a Vegas show, SPD has decided it wants to be the opening act / co-star nightly.

Basically, this hormone makes all your ligaments relax so the baby can get out (it's called relaxin - aren't they clever?)  One of the places the ligaments need to relax (obviously) is in the pelvis. That baby's head ain't getting out otherwise.  Well, in the front, the ligaments are supposed to stretch out a little bit, but if your pelvis isn't "locked" (whatever the hell that means), or they stretch out a little too much, you can get pain.  A lot of pain.  The best way I can describe it is that it's like getting kicked in the crotch with a really pointy pair of stilettos - but from the inside.

Yes houseboating buddies, for inventing the C-punch term, I am now experiencing a reverse one or 5 on a daily basis.  Karma is a bitch. (For non-houseboaters - think of it as the woman version of kicking a man in the family jewels, but with a cruder and unfortunately catchy moniker one thinks up after days of drinking "punch" on the Shuswaps)

The only relief from these two asinine conditions? Laying down.  Unfortunately, they also have an annoying little gnat of a cousin - acid reflux.  Yep, joy of joys.  After Braxton Hicks and SPD have kicked my ass enough to make me go to bed at 7:30pm, about 10 minutes later, acid reflux comes to this little get together and makes me feel like puking all night.  Whoopee shit.

So you see, I am starting to get a little desperate - Tilly needs to get her little butt out here.  I am in the process of making a list of all the things I can do to convince her to come out - booking reflexology and acupuncture, purchasing a trampoline, and I'm even getting close to drinking castor oil.  Any ideas short of a vacuum cleaner are more than welcome - well, almost any.  I just remembered who reads this and what you people come up with sometimes frightens me a little.