Another Missing Month

And I don't even have the Facebook updates to reclaim it.

What I do have, though, is a beautiful new son. Matthew Joseph. "Baby Matt", as we've been calling him, for lack of a more original nickname.

If I had the Facebook updates to fill in the last month, they would mostly all revolve around childbirth, nursing, and other random and TMI post-partum issues. But, this second time around, I have found the good sense to check myself, realizing that, seriously, nobody wants to hear 'bout it.

So here is Baby Matt's first official, and long overdue, Blog Post:

Welcome to the World, Matthew Joseph!

As you probably know, I was scheduled for a Most Desperately Unwanted and Highly Dreaded c-section on August 25 at 1pm. (Need I explain why?)

I woke up that morning around 7am and went to the Ladies', bc/ I was having some ::ahem:: indications that I maybe needed to ::ahem:: poop.

By 9am, the cramps hadn't stopped, so I then chalked them up to nerves. Like I said, the upcoming event was Most Desperately Unwanted and Highly Dreaded. I kind of couldn't bring myself to think about it without starting to hyperventilate.

By 10am, I was starting to wonder if I was maybe having contractions. Motherfuckers were starting to hurt. But there was no rythym or pattern to them, and I was going to be leaving for the hospital in an hour anyway, so...

By 11am, I was *pretty sure* they actually were contractions.

By the time we rolled into the hospital 20 minutes later, I could barely walk.

By the time they got me back into the pre-op area 10 minutes later, I was one of those annoying moaning women you see on TLC and Discovery Health. Lord, I hate them. I hated myself, but I couldn't control myself. I was moaning. And cursing. And in full-blown labor.

By the time the doctor rolled in 30 minutes later still (and Where the Fuck Was He?? you might ask), I was ::ahem: Ready To Go. And so, Dr. "You Are a Terrible Candidate for a VBAC, You'll Never Do It, Abandon All Hope and Get Ready for Another Horrific Experience That Will Leave You In Pain and Laid Up for Weeks, But the Good News is That There is Only a Ten Percent Chance that the Incision Will Burst Open this Time" peered up at me from ::ahem:: somewhere near my cervix and nonchalantly asked me if I wanted to ::ahem:: give it a try the old-fashioned way.

HELLS YES I DID.

And so, a few pushes, a poop on the table, a mid-line episiotomy, and some forceps later (yeah, there was no way to ::ahem:: any of that into Polite Euphemisms) there he was. It was spectacular. It was everything that JD's birth was not. I even reached down and pulled him out and up to my chest and we stared into each other's eyes in a moment of pure and eternal recognition. Hey, I know you, I always have, and I always will. You are mine.

I Felt Fantastic.

And I'm trying so hard not to break the Cardinal Mom-of-Two Rule: Don't Compare Your Children To Each Other, but alas, I am already failing miserably, at least in terms of their birth experiences.

Night and Day, Absolute, Polar Opposites.

Let's run them down, side-by-side, you know, for posterity and such, and then we'll Let It Go.

JD's was meant to be a Natural Birth, and ended up as a Surprise C-Section; Matt's was meant to be a Scheduled C-section and ended up as a Surprise VBAC.

JD's took over 24 hours, with three hours of pushing; Matt's totalled about three hours altogether.

JD's featured a cast of thousands (teaching hospital, you know) in a loud, garishly-lit circus of indignity; Matt's was attended by one nurse, one doctor, myself and Dave in a quiet, dimly-lit room. It was still pretty much devoid of dignity, though.

Both ended with beautiful boys, healthy boys, strong boys. MY boys. They will always be MY BOYS. Sweet boys, kind boys, joyful boys. Funny boys, clever boys. Mine.