Saturday, May 15, 2010

Day 223

Obviously my vow never to fall pregnant again went out the window once our dew drop from heaven became firmly embedded in our lives. To begin with, the memory of child birth combined with the overwhelming love I felt for our baby, couldn't see me ever being able to bring another soul into the world. How could I possibly have enough love inside me to share around? And do I really want the whole Amish quilt treatment again? But four years later we stepped up again for another round. Those post pregnancy chemicals that make you forget EVERYTHING had finally kicked in and the seeds were planted that would soon become the Darbster.

Unlike the first pregnancy I kept my weight gain to a minimum, and therefore I managed to keep my ankles, knees and neck. I also managed to keep the contents of my stomach all day every day. (I'd managed to defy logic the first time around by gaining a shite load of weight while purging during 4 months of morning sickness.) Just like Tahlia, Darby was overdue by a week. This time I did things like eating chili and drinking cod liver oil to bring the baby on. Exactly 4 hours after the oil cocktail my "who who" spat out a jelly like lump (the plug thing or unabsorbed code liver oil?) and the contractions began. They were fairly light and manageable and arrived every hour on the hour for 12 hours and then they stopped. Completely stopped. Nothin'. No way! They were braxton hicks? Geez Louise, that sucks. Three days later as I tucked Tahlia into bed my legs gave way rendering me disabled, and the real contractions began. Here we go again. Yep, nothing like the cod liver contractions. These ones really hurt. And every time I had a contraction my legs wouldn't work. What's up with that? Off to the hospital for round two. Turns out Darby was turned so his spine was against my spine which did something to my nerves or something. I did this one without drugs. Derek was my pain relief this time. He had to stand behind me and squeeze my hips together with every contraction to help with pain management. If he lost strength at all I would scream blue murder. He also had to restrain me during the transition phase when I stripped off all my clothes and decided to head home ... naked ... via the top floor window. I wanted to back out. This was awful. It sucked! I hate this. I HATE YOU HUSBAND FOR DOING THIS TO ME! You bastard. Get your hands off me. NOOOOO! Put your hands back on me and squeeze. SQUEEZE YOU LAZY PRICK!!! Fucking fuck fuck (Poor Derek.) I want to go home ... I don't want to do this anymore ... I've changed my mind ...

After only 7 hours it was time to perform. As I leaned over the back of the bed with my arse bared to the world, something popped out. Wooo hooo! No ripping at all. Easy. It was over.

Nope. That was my water bag thingimo. I had given birth to the water balloon. What the ?!?! Oh yeah, my waters never did break did they? Forgot to tell them that. Information they could have had earlier I suppose.

An hour later, after lots of swearing and crying and screaming out things like "MAKETHISFUCKINGSTOP", "IHATEYOU" and "AMIPOOINGMYSELF?OHNO!PLEASETELLMEI'MNOTPOOINGMYSELF", Darby arrived. And again there were stitches. And again my v-jay-jay took a beating. And again I swore I would never do it again. And we didn't.

And again it is all forgotten because the prize you get at the end is worth the indignity and the pain (and the droopy deep fried lady purse).


  1. Sorry to laugh at ur pain (ouch) but ha ha ha ha. I, too have similar birthing stories. Makes you wonder how women populate the earth at all, doesn't it?

  2. Oh my goddess Leanne, I am so giggling. I think we are deep fried twins separated at birth....we even have the same delightful language through child-birth!

    I love a good birth story, and this one is up there...

  3. haha Leanne. Thankfully now it is just a memory and you have all your kids and you can cherish them and the fact you never have to give birth again. (Hopefully...Never say never. Right?) LOL xxx

  4. Love a good birthing story! Who wants to share? oh sorry Taryn - hope your upcoming birthing is a good one!

  5. This one is even better second time around...

    I so badly want to share my birth stories on my blog. But lovely husband has asked me not to.

    What is with that?!

    (And does he not realise they are already knocking around the internet anyway, via a parenting forum FFS?!)


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