Flashback Friday – The gestation years

Are you as tired as I am of the media firestorm surrounding Jon and Kate Gosselin of TLC’s highest rated reality show, Jon and Kate Plus Hate Eight? Whether it’s her business in the front, party in the back hairdo or his supposed philandering with a twenty-three year old, they are on my TV screen and newsstand every time I turn around.

I watched the original documentary about the Gosselin’s when it aired on TLC. I thanked my hoo-ha for only shooting out one baby at a time because, as a twin, I was a little worried I might also give birth to multiples someday.

Here’s Kate Gosselin shortly before she delivered her sextuplets. When I see this picture I think, “Wow, what would I do if I had that many little babies all crammed into my uterine clown car?

I needn’t have worried. At our ten week ultrasound we discovered there was only one little baby in there and we watched its heartbeat blinking on the screen.

I enjoyed being pregnant. Life was an all-you-can-eat-buffet and I no longer had to change the kitty litter lest I contract some heinous illness that would result in our offspring being born with paws and whiskers.

Pregnancy got a whole lot less fun as I neared my mid-summer due date. I had one pair of shoes that fit and stopped caring whether my maternity pants matched my shirt.

My due date came and went.

Every day after that, when I awakened in the morning and realized I had A)not gone into labor in the night and B) had to go to work, I became increasingly more pissed off.

Finally, 11 days past when my firstborn was due to arrive, Doogie Fucking Houser, who had joined my OB/GYN’s practice after graduating from medical school a scant two weeks prior, announced he’d be delivering our baby within the next forty-eight hours. We were instructed to check into the hospital by 8:00 PM that night so special medicine could be applied directly onto my girly parts and I’d finally go into labor. This picture was taken as we got ready to go to the hospital. I know I look like I’m about to give birth to sextuplets too but believe me, there’s only one in there.

We didn’t know if we were having a boy or girl but by 6:00 AM the next morning I no longer cared what we had as long as it was no longer residing in my body. At 1:00 PM I pushed for what seemed like hours and it still wouldn’t come out and since I was so tired I just screamed at them to use the vacuum. Once they saw the look on my face, they sucked Matthew out with a hospital grade Dyson.

He was 9 lbs. 7 ounces and 21 and 3/4 inches long. I can’t blame my inability to hold my pee-pee when I sneeze entirely on him because three years and four months later his 9 lb. 6 ounce, four days overdue sister came hurtling out of my baby box and ruined my bladder control forever. And, I gave birth to her without any drugs whatsoever.

Our household may not be reality show worthy but I don’t care. Unlike Jon and Kate, Dave and I won’t have to talk to the offspring about the time mommy and daddy’s marriage imploded on national television. There are also no cameras around to document me walking the offspring to the bus stop without a bra. Or to see me lying on the couch with my ipod turned up so loud I can’t hear them shouting “Mom!!” Or that time I pretended not to notice when they ate frosting out of a can for breakfast.

Thank.God.