Forced Labor

14 Apr

As I get ready to find out next week if my placenta has stopped trying to exit my vagina early, I’m reminded that I told my friends jokingly at the beginning of this pregnancy that “this labor and delivery could only be worse than Bee’s if I’m forced to have an emergency Cesarean.”

Now I’m realizing that the joke might be on me if this placenta thing doesn’t work itself out.

And I’m so not laughing.

But I was also reminded that I’ve never shared the super awesome story that I have entitled: “Bee’s Forceful Removal from my Vagina.”

All the fun began with a scheduled induction because Bee was like five minutes late and I wanted her the fuck out of my crotch. You know, in a loving way.

So we got a call on our scheduled induction day that if we were ready to push this widdle bebe out, they had a place for us! We grabbed our bags, full of birth plans and iPod playlists of annoying soothing classical music, and headed to the hospital. Of course, all of that shit stayed right in the bag and was never used, but we’ll get to that later (side note: birth plans are a waste of time. The end.).

We (and by “we”, I mean ME) got all hooked up to the monitors, put on the beautiful hospital gown and got ready for the Pitocin, otherwise known as the Drug of Please Just Kill Me Now. They started me on the Pitocin by noon and soon all the players were in the room, waiting for shit to happen.

Oh, side note: By “players”, I mean that, in my family, labor and delivery is not a solo event. I know some of you are all “I didn’t even want my HUSBAND in the room!” Yeah, um, I had Mr. Bee, Sissy, my mom, my dad (yes, my dad got to come too!), and my niece and nephew. This time around, I even invited my mother-in-law to come in, but she quickly said that she’d much rather babysit Bee as she has no desire to see my nether-regions push out a kid. “Some things are better left unseen…” were her exact words!

Despite the drugs, for the next four hours, we were all bored senseless. Thank GOD for People’s Court is all I have to say. I remember apologizing profusely to everyone for being all boring and non-eventful (little did I know that the action was coming quickly).

They must have cranked the Drug of Please Kill Me Now up a ton, because suddenly I started feeling the contractions. Now, they weren’t bad at all, just uncomfortable. Totally do-able. But apparently my body is a giant pussy (ironic because that would probably make birthing a LOT easier to have a vag THAT big), and I immediately began vomiting. Like a TON.

It. Was. Awesome.

“Oh, if you get an epidural, that will TOTALLY make the projectile vomiting go away!” the nurses quickly informed me.

Now I’m not a dumbass. I am/was fully open to all possible drugs during labor including, but not limited to, epidurals, Demerol, Stadol, Everclear, Crystal Meth… But at this point, I was kind of hoping to get a few contractions under my belt so that I didn’t feel like a total wimp in the labor and delivery department. Un/fortunately, the thought of not vomiting trumped not wanting to be a wimp so I was all about drugs to help the situation.

The awesome part? The epidural didn’t help.

So guess who vomited during her entire labor?

Yeah, it was super awesomesauce. If I wasn’t boring enough before, for the next six hours I was on oxygen and completely out of it, just trying not to puke all over myself. Practically comatose.

Oh, another important piece of information is that halfway through my labor, my super awesome nurse’s shift ended. Cue nurse who didn’t give a shit about the poor chick vomiting through labor.

Seriously, I swear to Christ, this bitch didn’t check my progress for hours. Like FOUR hours. By the time she finally did check me, I was completely dilated, effaced, ready to get the fuck on with it. AND Bee was starting to go in to distress because she had probably been ready to get the hell out of my womb for hours.

Once my doctor arrived, it was go time. In fact, it was “Oh, shit.” go time. My doc grabbed a gigantic suction cup with handles (the kind I’m pretty sure that people use to scale the sides of skyscrapers), and stuck that fucker right on to Bee’s head in my womb. Then, after grabbing a stool for leverage since she is/was a pipsqueak of a thing, the doctor then did the “eye on the ball” finger thing to me…

eye on the prize

Then she proceeded to forcefully rip Bee out of my vagina. I’m pretty sure I only pushed/held on as she was ripped out of me for about 15 minutes or so.

I don’t think it helped that Bee was sunny-side up AND had her cord wrapped around her neck twice. The girl is high-maintenance, yo.

Once she was out, they slapped her around, cleaned off the gunk, and she began her reign as World’s Most Beautiful Little Girl.

Bee's first photo

What I didn’t realize at the time was that apparently the floor was coated in my vagina blood (trademark!). So while I was cooing and petting my new widdle bebe, my family was freaking the fuck out that I was bleeding all over the place like a scene from a Saw movie.

After forty five minutes of stitches…

Did you catch that last bit?

FORTY FIVE MINUTES OF STITCHES.

Talk about Frankenstein Vagina. Shoot.

Finally, sweet baby Jesus in a manger, FINALLY, around one o’clock in the morning, they forced my exhausted ass in to a wheelchair to switch rooms. It’s then that I felt my first failure as a mother because at that moment, when they handed me Bee all swaddled up in a blanket to carry to my new room, I could have given a shit if they had put her in the fucking laundry hamper to get her to our new room. I JUST NEEDED TO SLEEP!

Honest to God, I was terrified that I would pass out in exhaustion and drop her, poor thing! I’m still a little bitter that they forced me out of my room in the middle of the night. Fuckers.

Anywho, Mom and Bebe were happy and healthy, although one of us had severe jaundice from the gigantic bruise on her head and the other one’s vagina hurt like a mother.

I’ll let you figure out which.

Uh, The End.

Song title: Forced Labor by The Circle Jerks

4 Responses to “Forced Labor”

  1. Sarah April 14, 2010 at 8:09 am #

    I suppose one benefit to the emergency c-section is that you are not at all worried about your vagina. Your vagina is just chillin’ down there like whew! So glad I decided to take today off! There’s at least that. :)

    Good luck with the placenta!

  2. sissy2mom2bee April 14, 2010 at 8:16 am #

    Um, yeah. You forgot to mention the part when you were bleeding all over the floor that the Dr. put her arm inside of you up to her elbow. Mom and I were looking at each other like “Oh, shit.”

  3. Pearl Wisdom April 17, 2010 at 9:52 pm #

    daaaaaaaaaang… whoa, now THAT’S a birth story. sheesh! this only means that number two will be a piece of cake. and by number two i do not mean your next act of taking a dump. and by piece of cake i do not mean you are going to give birth to a slice of triple chocolate mousse. but, that might be kind of rad too.

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  1. No Words To Describe | Mom to Bee - June 21, 2010

    [...] last pro-baby/vaginal birth argument always comes down to the fact that I am chicken shit AND had a pretty traumatic birth with Bee and I’m still going on this crazy ride [...]

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