The Story of P: Part 1

So when I asked my 5 year old what I should write about today on the blog, her response was, “Me, of course!”

Of course.

And I have been known to indulge my child a little too much.  Why stop now!?!

Plus I have been feeling nostalgic lately.  P's impending entry into kindergarten has left me wondering where in the world my tiny little monkey has gone.  She is beyond ready to go, but mama is not as sure.  

P (whose proper name is Piper) was born in March 2008.  My due date was March 23rd.  She was frank breech and was not looking to move, so I had to schedule a c-section for March 17^th.  Yes, that would be St. Patrick’s Day.  I took issue.  Not with the c-section.  I wanted that.  It was the date.  St. Patrick’s Day is one of my favorite holidays and I didn’t know how I felt about P being born then.  But, I got used to the idea and it became even funnier later.  My doctor would be out for my delivery and the doctor who was scheduled to do my c-section was all of 4’11 and reminded me of a leprechaun.  HAH!!  We had a good laugh.  Well, P was the one laughing.

I didn’t stop working until 3 days before my delivery.  I worked in retail…selling shoes.  I was on my feet ALL day long.  Seriously.  It cracks me up when I hear women complain about their nice cushy jobs and having to stop working like 3 weeks early.  But to each their own.  So the 3 or 4 days before delivery were spent finalizing my home.  I got all of P’s things in order.  On Saturday, I had lunch with my sister and then went home.  I had plans to shower and wash my hair and all that good stuff on Sunday.  I went to bed that night looking forward to my relaxing day.  My LAST day before mommyhood.  P was active.  I was annoyed.  I slept anyway.

The next morning, I woke up at 7:30 and I was pissed.  I had to pee.  It was so early.  I figured I would pee and go right back to sleep.  I figured wrong.  I sat there and peed.  Then, all of a sudden, I hear pop pop.  No joke.  I heard that shit!  And then there was a gush.  Now I was still half asleep so I just thought I was still peeing.  But it kept coming.  And then I realized…it was coming out of the wrong hole.  Fo real!

And of all days for NO ONE to answer their phones.  I called my sister and both of her kids.  No answer.  Finally, she called me back and swiftly arrived at my house.  I called the hospital and told them I was coming.  A day early.  Yes, P has a sick sense of humor.  I tried to call P’s dad but he wasn’t answering.  Really!?!

My bag for the hospital wasn’t 100% ready.  And I wasn’t about to leave my house without washing my hair.  So, with my sister having a heart attack and with towels wedged in my girl parts, I washed my hair in the kitchen sink.  By the time I was done washing my hair, the contractions had started.

I called my parents (who actually DID answer).  And they were going to meet us at the hospital.  My sister drove…freaking out the whole way.  She was also secretly praying that P’s dad never responded so she could be the one in the delivery room.  Well, that wasn’t actually so secret.  By the time we got to the hospital, the contractions were pretty strong.  I still walked the WHOLE way up to L&D.  I’m a beast y’all. 

Once there, they got me into a gown…got me hooked up to machines…called the doctor (which was not the leprechaun)...and they made sure P was still breech.  Oh, and the drugs.  I got drugs.  Once the anesthesiologist was available, I got my epidural.  That shit was scary and painful.  I heard crunching…not cool.  It took a lil bit for it to take affect and I was freaking out.  I kept telling her, ”I can still feel my feet!”  But it turned out ok.

After her bath!

I laughed through most of the c-section (it felt really weird and cool).  And cried.  Tears of happiness.  (P’s dad did call back and showed up in time.)  The anesthesiologist was really great and took the camera from P’s dad.  She took photos for us.  And she held my hand and wiped my tears.  She was awesome.

She stole my heart!

P came out butt first…screaming…and she peed on the doctor.  Not a bit has changed.  She still has attitude.  She cried and cried.  They cleaned and wrapped her up.  Her dad held her and then they gave her to me.  She stopped crying.  She stole my heart.  I knew then that I loved her more than life itself.  And I knew I was hungry as shit.  It was March 16th, 2008.

After making our way back to recovery, my mom snuck her way into the room.  I was glad.  I wanted her to be the first to see P.  I just thought (and still do) that it was so awesome that she snuck back.  She wasn’t supposed to be back there but she 007’d her way into recovery.  Crazy ass woman!  She beamed.  She was in love, too. 

I still remember the rest of the day.  But I will forego the tedious details.   I remember having a turkey sandwich after.  And then my awesome friend Leah bringing me Cracker Barrel.  I still love her for that!  We had a lot of visitors!  I just wanted to sleep.  I remember almost having an anxiety attack that first night.  I had sent P to the nursery.  I got up to go to the bathroom.  I knew I was in the hospital.  I knew I had been cut open.  But I was so afraid that having P was a dream.  I was afraid that I was there for some other reason.  I calmed down and went back to sleep.  Until they brought P in for a feeding.  And then, I knew it was real.

2 weeks old

She was an amazing little girl.  And still is.  I should have known by her larger than life entrance into my world that she would be a force throughout.  She continues to amaze me daily…with her wit, her intelligence and her beauty...

 

See?  Amazing!

 

I’ll continue her story another time.

Thanks for reading.

So when I asked my 5 year old what I should write about today on the blog, her response was, “Me, of course!”

Of course.

And I have been known to indulge my child a little too much.  Why stop now!?!

Plus I have been feeling nostalgic lately.  P's impending entry into kindergarten has left me wondering where in the world my tiny little monkey has gone.  She is beyond ready to go, but mama is not as sure.  

P (whose proper name is Piper) was born in March 2008.  My due date was March 23rd.  She was frank breech and was not looking to move, so I had to schedule a c-section for March 17^th.  Yes, that would be St. Patrick’s Day.  I took issue.  Not with the c-section.  I wanted that.  It was the date.  St. Patrick’s Day is one of my favorite holidays and I didn’t know how I felt about P being born then.  But, I got used to the idea and it became even funnier later.  My doctor would be out for my delivery and the doctor who was scheduled to do my c-section was all of 4’11 and reminded me of a leprechaun.  HAH!!  We had a good laugh.  Well, P was the one laughing.

I didn’t stop working until 3 days before my delivery.  I worked in retail…selling shoes.  I was on my feet ALL day long.  Seriously.  It cracks me up when I hear women complain about their nice cushy jobs and having to stop working like 3 weeks early.  But to each their own.  So the 3 or 4 days before delivery were spent finalizing my home.  I got all of P’s things in order.  On Saturday, I had lunch with my sister and then went home.  I had plans to shower and wash my hair and all that good stuff on Sunday.  I went to bed that night looking forward to my relaxing day.  My LAST day before mommyhood.  P was active.  I was annoyed.  I slept anyway.

The next morning, I woke up at 7:30 and I was pissed.  I had to pee.  It was so early.  I figured I would pee and go right back to sleep.  I figured wrong.  I sat there and peed.  Then, all of a sudden, I hear pop pop.  No joke.  I heard that shit!  And then there was a gush.  Now I was still half asleep so I just thought I was still peeing.  But it kept coming.  And then I realized…it was coming out of the wrong hole.  Fo real!

And of all days for NO ONE to answer their phones.  I called my sister and both of her kids.  No answer.  Finally, she called me back and swiftly arrived at my house.  I called the hospital and told them I was coming.  A day early.  Yes, P has a sick sense of humor.  I tried to call P’s dad but he wasn’t answering.  Really!?!

My bag for the hospital wasn’t 100% ready.  And I wasn’t about to leave my house without washing my hair.  So, with my sister having a heart attack and with towels wedged in my girl parts, I washed my hair in the kitchen sink.  By the time I was done washing my hair, the contractions had started.

I called my parents (who actually DID answer).  And they were going to meet us at the hospital.  My sister drove…freaking out the whole way.  She was also secretly praying that P’s dad never responded so she could be the one in the delivery room.  Well, that wasn’t actually so secret.  By the time we got to the hospital, the contractions were pretty strong.  I still walked the WHOLE way up to L&D.  I’m a beast y’all. 

Once there, they got me into a gown…got me hooked up to machines…called the doctor (which was not the leprechaun)...and they made sure P was still breech.  Oh, and the drugs.  I got drugs.  Once the anesthesiologist was available, I got my epidural.  That shit was scary and painful.  I heard crunching…not cool.  It took a lil bit for it to take affect and I was freaking out.  I kept telling her, ”I can still feel my feet!”  But it turned out ok.

After her bath!

I laughed through most of the c-section (it felt really weird and cool).  And cried.  Tears of happiness.  (P’s dad did call back and showed up in time.)  The anesthesiologist was really great and took the camera from P’s dad.  She took photos for us.  And she held my hand and wiped my tears.  She was awesome.

She stole my heart!

P came out butt first…screaming…and she peed on the doctor.  Not a bit has changed.  She still has attitude.  She cried and cried.  They cleaned and wrapped her up.  Her dad held her and then they gave her to me.  She stopped crying.  She stole my heart.  I knew then that I loved her more than life itself.  And I knew I was hungry as shit.  It was March 16th, 2008.

After making our way back to recovery, my mom snuck her way into the room.  I was glad.  I wanted her to be the first to see P.  I just thought (and still do) that it was so awesome that she snuck back.  She wasn’t supposed to be back there but she 007’d her way into recovery.  Crazy ass woman!  She beamed.  She was in love, too. 

I still remember the rest of the day.  But I will forego the tedious details.   I remember having a turkey sandwich after.  And then my awesome friend Leah bringing me Cracker Barrel.  I still love her for that!  We had a lot of visitors!  I just wanted to sleep.  I remember almost having an anxiety attack that first night.  I had sent P to the nursery.  I got up to go to the bathroom.  I knew I was in the hospital.  I knew I had been cut open.  But I was so afraid that having P was a dream.  I was afraid that I was there for some other reason.  I calmed down and went back to sleep.  Until they brought P in for a feeding.  And then, I knew it was real.

2 weeks old

She was an amazing little girl.  And still is.  I should have known by her larger than life entrance into my world that she would be a force throughout.  She continues to amaze me daily…with her wit, her intelligence and her beauty...

 

See?  Amazing!

 

I’ll continue her story another time.

Thanks for reading.