Huge Headed Babies & Other Reasons C-sections Are Awesome.

“Thank god you had a C-Section his heads f*cking HUGEE!” Those were the first words I heard uttered about my son. It should be noted that they were said with a thick Boston accent by my nurse. I just had a c-section and was lying on the cold table, my hands spread like Jesus on the cross and the nurse had just ushered my huge headed son over to me so we could basically head butt each other before he was whisked off to my husband.

Needless to say, it was not the birth I had envisioned. Lots of other things happened to: we lost his heart rate completely after the epidural (it’s normal for it to dip a bit) but when they lost it completely they rushed me into for an emergency C-section. Luckily they found it before they put me under and we resumed trying to have a “normal”  birth: ending in a c-section.

To be honest I don’t know what I was expecting. My birth plan was only to get an epidural as soon as I legally could. I know some people like to brag about how much pain they can endure. I’m the opposite. I like to brag about how little pain I can handle and how quickly I can get out of feeling any of it. Basically if they put a margarita machine in the room I would have been fine with it.

I am not saying this to diminish woman who go without drugs. You ladies have my respect. Truly. We all take different paths for different reasons and however you chose to bring a baby in the world (as long as it’s done with love and care) is the right way.

I’m just always surprised when people seem sad that I had a c-section, like there was something wrong with my birth. I loved my birth. The four days in the hospital were some of the best days of my life. Having Augie wasn’t a perfect ride but it was my ride and I am so grateful for my team of doctors and nurses who made it possible. Especially to my nurse, Joy, who was my rock during all of the messiness. I’ll never forget how attentive and kind she was during the whole ordeal, even as she introduced me to my son with his huge f*cking head.

To me birth is similar to making the best meal you will ever eat. Sometimes you get some swearing chefs and have a few fires before the magic happens. Once it happens though you don’t care how it was made because it’s the best thing in the world.

Holding my son for the first time was so incredible and something that will never be diminished by the fact that he came from stomach and not my vagina. So please never feel sorry for anyone who had c-section. We are lucky beyond measure. Lucky to have medical advancements and a healthcare system that allows people like me to have beautiful, healthy,  albeit huge headed babies.

*Side note: I told my friend Liz this story over the weekend and she asked if I had my baby at minute clinic in Revere. This made me laugh. Like, A lot. But no,sadly, I had my baby at Brigham & Women’s.

 

 

Celebrating Divorce

Ok. I’m going to say something controversial: Celebrating marriage feels outdated to me. Not celebrating your own marriage but celebrating marriage in general. For example: why do we applaud if a couple has been married for 50 years? We know nothing about that couple except divorce papers were never legally filed. What if the guy was abusive or an addict and/or the woman is a sociopath? Are we still clapping and saying “Yay! Look they stayed with someone who was ruining their life and making them unhappy because of some arbitrary idea that divorce is failure or because it’s too scary to make changes.”

I don’t want to celebrate that. I want to celebrate people who are are happy. Period. If they are in a relationship that makes them happy and fulfilled: Great. Pop the champagne. If someone left a tough marriage that was draining them emotionally, physically, or financially, I also want to celebrate that. More Champagne!!! (Also, none of this is about me trying to drink more.)

It’s just frustrating to me that divorce is still perceived as a failure when it’s not. It’s an end to something that wasn’t working. It doesn’t mean the relationship or time spent together was meaningless. A relationship’s worth is not measured in the quantity of time but in the quality of time you had together. The happy memories don’t disappear because you are unable to find a way to make new ones.

I love my husband dearly but I’ll never be someone who goes around saying “Divorce is not option.” Of course it’s an option and I honestly believe that makes our relationship stronger. We chose each other everyday because we want to not because we have to.

Marriage is a choice, a choice you make everyday & there is enormous power in viewing it as a choice.

It’s like when Harry Potter finds out there is a prophecy about fighting to the death between him & Voldemort. How he views the prophecy plays an enormous role in how he fights. “It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to fight a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew- as do I – thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents- that there was all the difference in the world.”

If you view marriage as this thing that you have do or commitment you can’t leave: you are not walking into the arena with your head held high. You’re not in the arena because you want to be there. But if you view marriage as a choice, a choice you make everyday: you will fight harder for it.

Also, I get that I just compared marriage to a fight between good vs. evil that is to be fought to the death.

Anyways, if you’re in love and you found a way to grow with the person you married and make each other happy by all means celebrate. As I learned from going to too many Dave Matthews concerts: “Celebrate good will cause life is short but sweet for certain.” And if you left a marriage because it was not the life you wanted to live you should still celebrate cause life is still short but still sweet for certain.

 

How to wean a baby.

How to wean a breastfeeding baby: Do zero prep. Lie to people caring for your child about the amount of prep done. Go to Vegas.

Ok. So if this isn’t clear: I did no prep work for weaning my second. I was pregnant or nursing for almost 4 years straight so when my daughter turned one: I was DONE.

So I dropped my kids off in Michigan with their grandparents and met two girlfriends in Vegas. Things could have not been more fun: we saw shows, drank, danced, slept in, basically the perfect girls trip minus the leaky boobs.

We stay a beautiful hotel the first night. I was feeling a bit guilty about doing this trip, so decided to downgrade my hotel for the second night (my friends took a red eye back & I was on my own 2nd night).

This is where things get weird. The 2nd hotel is the stuff of nightmares. It’s like a sadness convention and trashy convention were happening simultaneously. I check in (which takes 2 hours) & go to my room. Don’t have a breast pump with me (long story) and have to hand express into some plastic hotel cups. Just when I’m feeling like the winningest winner around I hear a LOUD banging on the door and someone yelling “Let us in!” Not from the outside BUT THE ADJOINING DOOR!! I was frozen. Couldn’t say a word. Hand on boobs. Ready to fight them off like the fembots from Austin Powers but with breast milk. I finally manage to yell something like, “Wrong Door.” and they apologize. I start to calm down and then it happens again. I yell something incoherent and start making an exit plan. I wait a few minutes and then sprint towards the stairs. I run like they are chasing me (they are not) & finally make it to the front desk.

To make matters worse as I’m running I realize: if there is a Law & Order SVU based on my death at this seedy hotel that Christopher Meloni would not even be a god damn detective in the episode.

At the front desk I explain my situation they give me an “upgrade” to the “less likely to get murdered suite” and I stay up all night thinking about things I should of yelled things like: “I know karate” or “I have a machine gun.”

In retrospect they were probably just drunk kids getting the doors mixed up but I’ve watched enough crime shows to take no chances.

So that’s how I weaned my daughter. It wasn’t always pretty but it worked. I also learned that my own money issues caused this fiasco. I could of stayed in the other hotel. I mean really what was I saving $50 at most. I didn’t because of my own guilt. Guilt that was self-imposed. So when it’s come to guilt I will take a lesson from that cold hearted bitch Elsa and just let it go. Life’s too short to feel bad for having fun and wanting to stay in hotel that isn’t made from sadness & full of potential murders.