& the reckoning: the birth story, part 4

All right, I’ve been back four days now and there’s no excuse for you having missed all this. But just in case you’ve been sitting around with your proverbial head up your proverbial ass (or you actually had something to do this long weekend), here’s Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. Go catch up, show off.

More from Squatch:

I really don’t have much to say because the good stuff already happened. I did neglect to mention that it was really messy. We’re talking total carnage here. I wouldn’t recommend it. But I’m trying to delay bedtime a little while, so I’ll give you the rest of the story.

Squatch had fun telling this story. Who cares if you liked it?

After my eviction, everyone had a really long day. I’m pretty sure Mommy and Daddy didn’t sleep, and they took it out on me by waking me up constantly to eat. Some people just aren’t happy unless you’re not happy, I’m telling you. It may have also had something to do with the heat waving, the water being brown*, and the room being hot**.

*Notes from Daddy: A water main broke outside the hospital and all the hot water was dirty.
**The air conditioner broke. Karli said earlier in the year, “My biggest worry is that I’ll have Squatch during a heat wave and the air conditioning will go out.” Well, wish granted. Way to jinx it.

I was just starting to get used to the outside when they came and stuck me in a tanning bed because I guess they’re trying to breed the next cast of Jersey Shore at that hospital. I don’t think it’ll work, though. I’m not Italian, not from Jersey, and I don’t think my neck could support hair lathered in that much Crisco.

I ended up spending most of my time in that bed. Because our room was hot, we had to keep the door open in order not to roast ourselves. That meant I got to hear a lot of our neighbors across the hall.

Boy were these people winners. They had a girl with them who I assume got kicked out a little after I did. Her name was ——–*, which is one of the stupidest possible names next to ———–*. They’re not even actual names, for crying out loud. Poor kid never had a chance. I’m pretty sure the only time she got fed or her diaper changed was when the women with the needles came and took care of her.

*Note from Daddy: I censored the kid because I didn’t want to offend anyone who might think those are pretty names. I pity you, but I don’t want to offend you.

Finally, after a few extra months of hell, they let us leave. Which terrified the crap out of me. Would you want to go home with the woman who just forced you out of her belly and the dummy who drove her? Yeah, me neither.

So far, though, they seem to be doing okay. I’m still alive, which is a good sign, and they haven’t evicted me from here yet. It’s not as uterus-y as I’d like, and they don’t hold me nearly enough, but I think I’ll keep them. As long as they let me stay up whenever I want.


8 thoughts on “& the reckoning: the birth story, part 4

    • That’s the plan. He’s gotta work off his hospital bill somehow.

      We’ll discuss the epic squirrels issue, but I don’t know that he’s completely comfortable with that topic. He might be having nightmares about giant rodents attacking him at night, judging by the noises coming through the baby monitor.

  1. If Squatch wants to guestblog for me, I’m sure I can squeeze out some room for him. Oh, is that not culturally sensative to newborns? OK. I can open up some space for him. Wait…


  2. Pingback: & a mediocre host | & squatch makes three

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