If you’re just realizing that this blog isn’t dead and haven’t kept up, you can read Part 1 and Part 2. Or just go there and read them to jack up my page views. Which mean nothing, really. It’s like the points on Whose Line.
Anyway, here’s Squatch:
So suddenly, through no fault of my own, I’m getting shoved—shoved!out of Mommy’s belly. Through all the turning and position changes, even my best friend, Placenta, turned against me. The cord got wrapped around my neck twice and my stomach once. Think about that—my food source suddenly went Anaconda on me. How would you like it if your hamburger decided to squeeze you like youwere lunch. Where were Jennifer Lopez and Ice Cube when you need them*?
*Note from Daddy: I knew we shouldn’t have watched so much TV during pregnancy. Kid’s already hooked.
After about four-and-a-half months* of laying around in the hospital, Mommy was suddenly on her back and pushing me out. We were not starting this relationship on the right foot.
*Note from Daddy: 16 hours—about four of which were spent stuck at 9 centimeters before she finally gave in to ask for the epidural.
A little ways in, I heard Mommy throw up. It was like the old days again. The first trimester days. From what I could hear, I gather that she threw up on someone, but not Daddy*. Too bad, because that would’ve been pretty funny. After that, though, she started to push harder. And harder. And then it got really bright and really cold for a second before it went dark again.
*Note from Daddy: It was her favorite nurse—the one who actually let her move around into different positions to move things along. She felt really bad about that.
Then someone stuck something to my head and started pulling. That was totally not cool. It’s one thing for Mommy to try to evict me, but she had to go and call in the fuzz. She started pushing again, and the guy started pulling and I shot out of there like a rocket. The guy even said “Uh oh” as I came popping out—not what you want to hear from the guy who’s supposed to be catching you. But there I was, about a day* after Mommy started throwing me out, and I was homeless.
*Note from Daddy: Half an hour. I have a feeling he’ll have trouble with that whole time thing.
Not just homeless, either. The catcher guy unwrapped the cord from me, then Daddy cut it—CUT IT!so I was foodless, too! These are supposed to be my parents, folks. One kicks me out, and the other literally cuts me off. Not winning any Parent-of-the-Year awards, these two.
All I can remember after that was that it was so cold and they started pulling on me and poking me and rolling me around and I was so, so mad. I can honestly say it was the worst day of my life up to that point.
At this point, I think I’ll interject that this was one of the most surreal moments of my life, and mostly thanks to this blog. It made my son’s birth a lot like meeting a celebrity—someone I’ve talked about and know all this stuff about but have never actually met, then suddenly I’m face-to-face with him. And the fact that all these other people also knew who he was only added to the effect that I was meeting someone famous. It was pretty incredible.
Of course, I’ve never really met someone actually famous, so I have nothing to compare it to.