1 month

It has been a month.

It is all still raw. Figuratively and literally.

I am getting it together though. I have let go.

Or I have let go a bit.

The funniest moment of the labour?

I was at the end of 40 hours of contractions.
My daughter’s head had entered the birth canal. I shat. The hot male midwife had to help clean me up. Everyone was so focused on the crap that no one thought why the crap would be there. A few minutes later, the threat of a c-section looming due to lack of progression, they gave me one final exam. Sure enough, there she was! I pushed for the greater part of an hour to no avail. The contractions were getting weaker and further apart. It was time to make some decisions. Time to bust out the ventouse. The apparatus looked somewhere between a flying saucer and a toilet plunger. They put it on my baby’s head. They cut my vagina to make more room. They pulled on the baby while I pushed. The seal slipped and the ventouse popped off the baby’s head and out my vagina. With it a chunk of flesh (placenta??) that rotated in the air in slow motion. It landed with a distinct sound on the doctor’s cheek.

This is one of the many moments I want to remember. It is the one I think of often when I think of that night. The comic relief that could have presented itself a bit earlier but was fantastic never the less…. Even if the doctor disagreed.