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Rosalyn Virginia Frances! You're One!

A year ago March 9, you made your very quick entrance into your current dimension. At 2pm in the afternoon, I was sitting at this very computer (well, not THIS one, but the same spot) bitching on Messenger to my brother and 2 friends that, no,I had not yet popped and YES I was going insane. I had false labour all morning long, and it was annoying.

I won't even mention the incessant peeing, the ass in my ribs or the inability to be nice to anyone at all. GOD could have walked in my front door and I would have told him to kiss my fat ass and go to hell.

But I digress.

In true "I have kids" form, I decide to take a nap, and guess what. Go on, GUESS.

Yup. I get a contraction.

I ignore it, as I was ignoring the previous ones that went 3 minutes, 15 minutes, 2 minutes, 35 minutes, etc, etc ALL MORNING LONG.

I go back to my shut eye. Another contraction. About 4 minutes after the first.


I get one more. I realize that:
a: I'm not going to get a nap
b: It's time to pack some shit in a bag
c: I didn't eat lunch. (This will come back to haunt me later)

Another contraction. Oh. My. Fuck.

A breathe. I'm good. Get shit in bag, go downstairs, make that "oooh DEAR!" noise at the Dorf.

I look at my father, who if left to his own devices, would have already called the ambulance.

"You should call the cab."

Oh I"m fine! I tell him, as I keel over like a listing ship to breathebreathebreathe and crouch like I'm crapping...Just fine I'm


I hear a vague mumbling as he walks in the kitchen, then he sees my face.

He calls the cab. He's not THAT retarded.

I'm having contractions pretty close, and it's around 2:30ish. We get in the cab.

The cabbie, not a stupid man, puts "Hospital", "fatlady" and"weird breathing" together and asks, 'Will we make it?"

Yes, I tell him, We're FINE. Plently of time.

Heh. He ehehehe.....gasp

I get out of the cab at the hospital. I immediately bend over a bench, thinking it's the best thing I've seen all week, and how I love thee, oh kind bench. The Dorf begins asking stupid questions about my bag.

'Little BUSY right now, thanks."

After the contraction finishes, I answer his question, and we go in. SOMEONE finally points us towards L&D (why is every hospital ever made really just a way to determine who's insane? I mean REALLY..)

We walk into the labour ward, eventually. Bored nurses stare at me when I say 'I think I'm in labour." Actually, all I was thinking at the time was "I REALLY need to take a big crap." At this point, you'd think I would have figured it out. Apparently, labour makes me dumb.

I lock myself in the bathroom. The Dorf makes feeble attempts at communication. I'm grunting, moaning and carrying on, trying to figure out what that nagging voice in my head is saying.

I'm not stupid. In hindsight, I know that voice was saying "PUSH YOU MORON! PUSH!"

A nurse finally notices that my "could be labour" is more like "could be delivery". She convinces me to open the door, and discovers I've shed most of my clothes. Somehow she gets me to the labour room, althought I have no recollection how I got there. At this point, the contractions were oneafteranotherafteranother...They decide to break my water. FUCKFUCKFUCK. I thought it was bad before..

The next thing I can remember is reciting the "Litany against Fear" from the Dune books. All the while thinking
a: I'm SUCH a DORK
b: I don't care

Did I mention NO DRUGS. Upon getting my fat, bitchy wanting shit ass up on the table, they discover I'm 10 cms, ready to go. I'm offered Nitrous, which I suck on like a 15 year old at a brothel. It helps me focus my breathing, but that's it. Once I confirmed with the nurse that this was all I was getting, something in my head said "Fuck it. You can do this."

And in my mind, the worse was over. The "labour" was finishing, so how bad could it be?

Don't laugh. I really didn't find it to be that bad. Ok, the crowning part, that KILLED. And I can STILL hear this popping noise in my head, like someone shucking an oyster, as her head exited the birth canal. That hurt for a few seconds. I had a GREAT nurse though. I do recall the words "Biggest shit in your life!" coming out of her mouth.

Pushing that hard was the HARDEST thing I've ever done. I had to look past the pain, past how tired I was, and just DO IT. I remember someone saying "The only way out is through." They were right. And I did it.

There was meconium in the fluid, so they suctioned the mouth, and told me to pop the rest out. That was easy. Then I heard the words I waited 9 months to hear.


WOO HOO! 2 for 2!

Rosalyn Virginia Frances was born March 9, 2005, at 15:50pm. She was 8ilbs10oz and 20.5 inches long. She was not pretty. She was MAD. From the start she's been her mother's daughter.

This was the easy part. After it came the bleed, going home and adjusting, near post partum psychosis and me dealing with if I really wanted this child.

Lately, as she screams at me and I scream back and we both giggle, I know we made the right choice.

Rozamonkey-it's a big bad shitty pretty world out here. And it's all waiting for you honeychild. Be good to it, and it will be good to you.

Wow, you both made me laugh and made me crap my pants in fear at the same time. How do you DO it??

Happy Birthday, Virginia Frances!

What a great birth story :)

I'm a sarcastic bitch who can be nice sometimes, that's how Nicole! :P

Thanks Eden! It was quite the day!

I LOVED the labor story!!

Happy, happy birthday Rosalyn.

Personally, I hated giving birth. Both times early, both times no drugs. You're right... it's like the biggest shit of your life isn't it?

Happy Birthday to Rosalyn and also to my Elcie (greatgranddaughter number 1) an official teenager on March 9. I'll be sure to tell her she shares her birthday with one of my friends who live in the computer.

I consider you a friend anyway. I watch for your comments on Blogging Baby all the time.

Ann Adams
aka granny depending on which blog you're reading at the time.

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