Childbirth stories: they aren’t for the faint of heart…or stomach. But like most challenges in life, the end product can make the humiliation sting just a little bit less. And by end product, I mean baby, and by humiliation, of course I mean poop. You can read about my first, far from idyllic birth experience, In the Powder Room today. Bring some wet-wipes.
And as an extra special bonus like a good meaty placenta, my friend Glen, aka “The Regular Guy,” and I have teamed up to present a “he said/she said” take on childbirth. Glen has written a delightfully funny piece titled “Childbirth is not for ladies.” Do yourself a favor and read his column today too. He absolutely slays me every week.
fondly and with a firmly ingrained aversion to sausage,
-Iris
Is it wrong that after reading that I thought “Man, sausage and peppers would be amazing right now!”??? I was extremely grateful for the toilet during my second delivery.
Ahhh, yes… sounds fabulous. I can practically smell it.
What, whut?
Yes, it was Italian sausage that did me in when I gave birth to my first son as well. But I first began to regret my meal choice when I vomited about a gazillion times before I finally got the epidural. Good times, indeed.
“(Oh, can you hear that? It’s the world’s smallest violin playing a rousing rendition of the You ASSHOLE! Sonata in F sharp)”
The F sharp got me. F sharp, indeed.
Mike threw out his back when I was pregnant, and I had to help him to the car and into the doctor’s office…. I had to sort of piggy back him inside… I’m surprised that I didn’t drop a deuce then.
Cannot…stop…laughing…at this:
“Unless, of course, you don’t mind your b-hole acting like a Play-DOH Fuzzy Pumper Barber Shop extruder while you’re pushing.”
And I know for sure there is something “off” about me because while I’m laughing, I’m contemplating what I want to eat for breakfast.
I know. I’m every ounce of wrong there is.
see – you were worrying for nothing
great read
I can’t wait I can’t wait I can’t wait!
Fucking hilarious. I must repeat these gems:
It’s the world’s smallest violin playing a rousing rendition of the You ASSHOLE! Sonata in F sharp
Unless, of course, you don’t mind your b-hole acting like a Play-DOH Fuzzy Pumper Barber Shop extruder while you’re pushing
and, “Actually, you’ve been pooping for a while,” —>when I sharted laughing so hard.
I love you.
Iris: It was corned beef & cabbage that did me in w/child #3. With #4 the DH was on crutches because he had chipped a bone in his ankle. The nurses gave him more attention than I got during delivery to make sure he was comfortable. My God, give him a stool & let him be “comfortable.” Get this small child out of my vaj-jay & I’ll be comfortable! I also got to have my entire labor w/#4 on a gurnee because there were no rooms available & this was going to be my 1st chance at one of those snazzy rooms where u could go from labor-delivery in the same room. Nothing worse than trying to move over to a delivery table while you’re in labor!