Postpartum My Eggo Update: Week 1

Goodbye, Preggo My Eggo. Hello, Postpartum My Eggo. What you will find in Postpartum my Eggo updates: rants about how much newborns suck, gushes about how much newborns rock, unintelligible gibberish caused by lack of sleep and hormone imbalance, etc.

What you will not find here: weekly pictures of me and weight updates. Why? Because I think that is a good way to make myself feel like a failure when I don't do well and make some readers feel like failures when I do. Postpartum weight loss is an individual journey. If you are one of these mamas that had the baby and were posting skinny pictures of your tummy the next day, more power to ya, sister. I am not one of them. Currently, my belly looks like a deflated waterbed that has been attacked by a tiger then filled with jello and left in the sun for 6 months. You don't need to see that (though you may want to).

For now, I plan to keep these up until I return to work and have more than just a newborn to talk about. So, look forward to 12 weeks aboard postpartum The Crazy Train!

The Confessional

My Sin:
I was in love with Donnie Wahlberg. A love that was all-consuming and made me do idiotic things like make out with my TV screen when NKOTB videos were on. I went to a NKOTB concert a few years ago and fell back in love with Donnie when he jumped on stage and chugged two beer in less than 30 seconds. I believe we are soul mates.

Sin From a Fellow Boozehound:
I'm deathly afraid of balloons. Like, I will walk 2 miles out of my way just to avoid them. And those balloon animal people at restaurants?! I just started motioning "no" and saying my son has a latex allergy. (He does not have a latex allergy, just fyi.) We don't have balloons at parties, except mylar ones. Those are okay. They aren't unpredictable like the latex ones. Even the smell gives me the heeby jeebies. -Erin  (ILBAB says: I think this is a Freudian fear originating from the balloon's phallic shape. I think a sex toy party with you, your closest boozehounds and a box of wine is in order to remedy this fear.)

The Confessional is now open. Have something you need to repent for? Feel free to send me your sin and I will help your purge your demons.

Preggo my Eggo Update: 39 weeks down, 0 to go. My Sponsor Has Arrived

Ta Da! He's here. He's chubby. He throws up and sleeps a lot. Sorry to keep you in suspense with the 39-week update, but we kind of wanted to keep it a secret for a bit. Even from our friends and family. We wanted to wait until we all got acquainted and The Quiet Contemplator got to meet him. Things are hunky dory thus far.

Born: Thursday, December 22, 2011 at 8:34 p.m.
Chubbiness: 7 pounds 11 ounces 19.5 inches
Name: My Sponsor TBD

Birth story to follow once I have a chance to get some sleep/can think straight.

Until then, here is a quick outline of how it went down:

1130am arrive at hospital and gown up
12pm first fisting. Holy mother of god that hurt. 1.5 cm
1pm pitocin started
3pm water broken 2.5 cm
445pm  epi
5pm ridiculous itching from epi. 4 cm
6:30pm catheter 5 cm
715pm 6 cm
8pm feel like I have to poop. Wait for dr. 10 cm
8:30pm dr arrives. Start pushing.
8:34pm he's here! I know, I suck.

Hilarity to ensue once the warm and fuzzy new baby feelings wear off and the reality sets it. Stay tuned!

Preggo my Eggo Update: 39 weeks down, 1 to go.

The end of a pregnancy must be the only time in the world where you find symptoms like extreme back pain and horrible cramps a good thing. I actually said to my husband the other day, "I had really bad diarrhea this morning and my face is super bloated so that is exciting." At this point, any signs that labor is coming are embraced, no matter how painful or disgusting they are. I would give anything to be standing in the booze aisle in Target and have my water break. I would just take it as a sign that baby really wants mama to have a drink. Please, Baby. PLEASE!

And if another person says to me, "Oh, you have totally dropped" I am going to karate chop them in the gizzard. I have not dropped. It is my second pregnancy and you don't usually drop in second pregnancies. Why? I am not sure but I think it is because God is a masochist who wants you to suffer as long as possible until D-day for having sinned and had sex again. My Sponsor is still lodged in my throat. Just where he likes it.

Yep. Still pregnant.

The Quiet Contemplator loves sharks.

So The Quiet Contemplator loves sharks. The problem with that is, she can't says "shark". It always comes out "cock". The other problem with that is, she loves sharks so she talks about them a lot. Like we will actually be in a store and she will see one and yell out, "COCK!". People tend to look at you funny after that. Namely, they tend to look at ADD Daddy funny and he wants to curl up and die and send his daughter to the monastery.

Sunday, we were watching a special on coral reefs on 60 Minutes. Guess what the coral reef has a lot of? That's right, cocks sharks. Well, the minute they panned to Anderson Cooper's guns and away from the sharks, TCQ would yell, "I want cock!" Awesome.

I like to tell TCQ to tell ADD Daddy how much she loves sharks. He does not think this is funny and you can see him have a little rage stroke every time she says in her sweet little voice, "I love cocks, Daddy." I am mean, I know.

The Confessional

My Sin:
I can not make my bed without bending halfway across the room to reach it for fear that something will grab my ankles from under the bed and try to kill me. I basically leap into bed every night so as to avoid the monsters under my bed eating me. I know this is irrational.


Sin From a Fellow Boozehound:
Motherhood: A Descent Into Madness: While breastfeeding, I thought I had figured out how long it takes the booze to purge from my system before it was okay to feed again. One night, I had pumped at like, 4 in the morning, and thinking that it was safe, stored the milk for the next feeding. Well. AFTER feeding the bottle to my son, I went to rinse it and caught a big 'ole whiff of white wine. I smelled the empty bottle, and sure enough, the booze fumes were so strong that my eyes almost watered. That son is now 3 and is not the smartest of our kids - we don't wonder why. Bad, bad mommy. (ILBAB says: A little white wine nip from the nip never hurt anyone. Thanks for sharing, mommy.)


The Confessional is now open. Have something you need to repent for? Feel free to send me your sin and I will help your purge your demons.

My Top 10

This post from The Bloggess got me to thinking of who I would invite if I had a dinner party and could invite any 10 people in the world (and actually have them show up). Here are mine. Who are yours?

1.   Daniel Day Lewis (He can just read the phonebook)
2.   Woody Harrelson (Someone has to bring the weed)
3.   Paula Deen (Because mama is hungry)
4.   Puck from the Real World (Because we need entertainment)
5.   Gerard Butler Ryan Gosling (Because I need something to look at he would probably bring a dog)
6.   Sheryl Crow (Because I need to throw my hubby a bone and don't want to punch her)
7.   Zach Galifianakis (Because he is weird and funny)
8.   Michelle Duggar (Because she needs to have a drink and get high to cope with her loss/19 kids)
9.   Dave Matthews (Because we were all in college once)
10. Chelsea Handler (Because I need someone to drink wine and make fun of Puck with)

Preggo my Eggo Update: 38 weeks down, 2 to go.

So I have discovered something about stretch marks and second pregnancies. It isn't that you have to worry about developing NEW stretch marks. What you have to worry about it your OLD stretch marks running like a pair of cheap panty hose. Yikes! It is like they found a chink in my chain and are running with it. Literally. Bastards.

Here are a few questions I am tired of hearing:
Idiot: Aren't you tired of being pregnant?
Me: No. I had a lobotomy before I got pregnant this time so I think this is all super fun.

Idiot: So when is it going to happen?
Me: What am I, f*cking Nostradamus? If I knew that, I would be sunning in Costa Rica until D-day.

Idiot: Wow. You are so big. Are you sure it isn't twins?
Me: Do you want me to punch you in the throat?

Idiot: Are you still here?
Me: No. This is only an illusion. You are just imagining me waddling my a** to the copier. You have a sucky imagination.

I have been told by two Drs, "There is a whole lot of baby in there." No sh*t.