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Labor Day

January 28, 2011

A lot of people have asked when I will write Miles’ birth story.  And while I always planned on it, I tend to have difficulty expressing things in writing that are so personal to me.  I acknowledge the contradiction of this statement considering all the blog posts about my boobs (here, here and here), but the birth of my son is different.  It’s emotional.  My boobs?  Not so much.

Having given birth once before (nine years ago today, actually —Happy Birthday Monkey!), I knew what to expect…sort of.

Some Similarities:

The Pain—it hurt like a MF, just like last time.

The Epidural—thank God.

The Love—I cried when Monkey was born and recognized that instant as being the happiest moment of my life.  So I decided to let myself off the hook with this birth because how could it feel the same?  How could I have two happiest moments of my life? The answer?  You just can.  I sobbed when they handed him to me.  And then I laughed, because he pooped.

Some Differences:

The Peeing—I literally peed every five minutes for four hours straight.  And we’re not talking a little tinkle tinkle.  It was like Seabiscuit.  Apparently this is common during labor, but I don’t recall that from the first time.

The “Team”—this time my husband didn’t leave me to labor alone in the hospital while he went to Hooters to drink beer and eat chicken wings.  (Yes that really happened, and yes I am a resentment harborer. Hence the divorce.)  No, this time I had both Brent and Bink with me the entire time, helping me through each contraction and literally cheering me on while I pushed.

The Family—within 15 minutes of Miles being born, our entire family descended upon the birthing room to celebrate him.

What a grand way to enter the world.

Yay Buddy!

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