Okay. The raging hormones have settled down and after receiving this:
I feel much better.
Fuck lithium…. Owen kisses will cure what ails ya. I challenge anyone to remain in a funk after getting hit by one of these bad boys.
I’m still a little fevery and I think the bottom line is that I’m getting sick because my throat hurts. I will spend the evening relaxing and Dean and I have decided to bond together in parental decision making by sitting down with my paperwork and filling out my birth plan.
A birth plan is your way of controlling your labor once you are so far gone and in the throws of agony to remember what it was you intended to begin with. It’s a sort of “heads up” to the hospital staff to let them know what your goals are while giving birth although I speak from lots of experience when I tell you that you can write down whatever in the fuck you want, but once them contractions hit, that shit gets tossed right in the can. At that point, you will do whatever makes you get through it and not really give a shit what you had planned on.
Here are a few things that get covered in a birth plan. I will share with you my goals and what I want to happen and then I will share with you what will realistically happen:
Goals- I wish to wear my own clothes and have lots of music and people around.
Reality- I’ll probably vomit on myself and be forced to wear a gown or go naked. I will also probably get annoyed and launch things at people until they get the fuck out. Then, I will feel bad and cry and beg for them to come back just so that I may resume throwing things at them. This cycle will last throughout the entire labor.
Goal- I wish to be allowed to walk around whenever I want to progress labor and to maintain a comfortable status.
Reality– I will probably be in so much pain that I will be in a ball on the floor and will not have a comfortable status to remain in.
Goal- I would like a heparin lock so that I may move around with freedom and as I choose. This way I can use the bathroom or walk around and can have an i.v. attached and detached whenever I feel like it.
Reality- They’ll give me the fucking heparin lock.
Goal- I wish to not be hooked up to fetal monitors but periodic handheld devices are fine to check the heartbeat and whatnot.
Reality- They won’t be able to find a goddamned heartbeat and after making me switch positions a million times, will force me into bed so that they can break my water and insert an internal monitor.
5. Pain relief:
Goal- I will begin begging for an epidural around six centimeters dilation after requesting several doses of stadol.
Reality- The dipshit anesthesiologist won’t be able to place an epidural due to my “scoliosis” and I will cry like a bitch without one, hate life, beg for death to come and have a total cow. All the while tanked off my ass from the stadol.
Goal- To take as many pictures and as much video as possible so that I might gross you all out with the gory thrill of childbirth.
Reality- My camera’s battery will go dead two minutes before I begin pushing and therefore I will only have a million pictures of me looking murderous and launching things at people.
Goal- I don’t give a shit. Just get it out. If you have to cut me, go for it. I will push however the fuck and whenever I want and you have nothing you can say about it. If I choose to push the baby out on the floor, then I will.
Reality-They’ll do everything they can to get me to conform and I will do whatever the hell I want. Which, at the time will be lying in bed pushing for two minutes until the baby is out.
8. Umbilical cord:
Goal- Matthew cuts the cord
Reality- He won’t be able to cut through it and Dean will have to step in to help him. With bolt cutters.
Goal- Give her to me right now, fuckers.
Reality- They’ll try to do that and she will be gross and I’ll hand her to Dean to clean her up a bit. THEN… Give me my baby.
Goal- Gimme the kid and let me get the fuck outta there.
Reality- They’ll keep me for a few days because my blood pressure will be too low.
So… there are many ideal fantasies about how you would like your labor and delivery to go but you have no real clue what you’ll want when the time actually comes. So, this is what Dean and I will be deciding this evening as if he really has a say in any of it. I will graciously allow him to pretend to be involved with the birthing process although we both know that he doesn’t really do shit. And if he even tries to take any form of credit afterwards, I will kick his ass. The glory will be mine, bitch.
As Owen’s kisses cure personality disorders, they won’t do shit for labor pains. It would be pretty cool if they did, though.