Home and Family

OK, so this is what dougkueffler  left as feedback to my last post:  “You lack some knowledge about childbirth and the preparations that take place prior to delivery. ”

Ummm???  Wow! Thank you for taking the time to point out my lack of knowledge. That really just makes me feel better and less scared about labor! And if you are referring to being given an enema when you get to the hospital, before you give birth, not all hospitals do that anymore. Mine is one that does not. If that isn’t what you are referring to, I would appreciate some real feedback, not just a comment on my ignorance.

AAAHHHHH!!!  Do I really have to worry about this??  I mean, COME ON!!!  I just read a stupid article about women pooping on the delivery table while they are giving birth.  I guess that they are pushing so hard that it’s hard to control everything down there.  Apparently, this happens to a NOT SMALL percentage of women.  I made the mistake of freaking out about this in front of my husband.  Mr. Sensitive is still laughing.  He told me that if I poop on the table, I’ll be hearing about it for the rest of our lives.    I handled this calmly, by threatening to chop off his naughty bits.  He then told me not to worry, if I pooped on the table, he would pull down his pants and crap right there on the floor, that way, no one would even remember me doing it.  Geez!!

Ok, so it’s true. Pregnant woman are crazy. I’ve decided to just embrace it and move on. I mean, you’d be crazy too if you were getting three hours of sleep a night because your darling, unborn daughter was trying to chew her way into the world through your lower back. Today, for instance, I was sitting in my home office, typing away, when I decided that I was hungry. I mean really hungry. Two seconds later, I decided that if I didn’t get an Oreo Cakester in all it’s chocolate glory right that instant, something very bad was going to go down. I wedged my feet into my shoes (yes, even my feet got fat!) and made my way to the closest grocery store. I even managed to only run one red light in the process! I lumbered my way to the snack isle. No Oreo Cakesters! What the…!?!?! Picture me, eight months pregnant, standing in the middle of the grocery store, on the cell phone with my husband, hysterically crying because there was not a cream filled chocolate snack cake to be found. Fortunately, my husband managed to talk me out of taking the stock boy hostage. The wonderful man even promised not to come home from work until he found me some Oreo Cakesters. I knew that there was a reason that I married him