Wednesday, November 12, 2014

The true story of parenthood - Arrival


The pamphlets had it all wrong.  They are all titled "A Joyous Parenthood," or "Magical Beginnings," or other such trite nonsense.  There's nothing magical about it.  A stroll around your local hospital's maternity ward will convince you that absolutely any hoodrat can have a kid.

 

Ah yes, let's begin with the beginning.  Some people can just have a kid.  Things work out naturally.  But for those of us that need to take extra steps, they take something fun like sex and turn it into work.  A prescribed regimen.  Take something that is supposed to be spontaneous and free, and turn into a strict diet.  Oh yeah, that'll help.

 

Regardless of how it happens, when you do get pregnant, there's the constant worrying.  Holy crap.  Does the baby have X.  Does it have Y.  What's the heart rate.  How many weeks are we? 40 weeks of wondering just what the hell is going on and a slew of medical professionals to shrug their shoulders and say:  Meh!  Answer questions vaguely, with no less than three undistinguishable alternatives and shy away from giving advice.  Really simple shit, too.  Such as:  Should my son's penis be as big as his head?  No answer.  I guess that's day one of medical school.

 

Worry worry worry worry worry.  For 40 weeks.  Pretty much sums up getting to term for me.

 

And then the day comes.  Or more likely, it doesn't and they have to make the day come.  Come on in and get drugged up to force that little guy out like a giant turd on a slip and slide.  My wife rebukes me for comparing the little one to a giant turd, but after 3 hours of solid screaming, I am somewhat reluctant to change my assessment. 

 

Back to the inducement.  Get the drugs going to move things along.  Nothing happens.  Get more drugs to move things along.  Nothing happens.  Up the dosage.  Now we're contracting.  Up the dosage.  Yeah, up to 4.5 cm.  Keep that shit running for a few hours!  Get an epidural.  Stall at 5cm.  Up the dosage for a few hours.  Still stalled.  Almost kill my kid by turning the wife from the left to the right.  Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? THAT'S ALL IT TAKES?!?!?! Time to hit you with the emergency C section at 1;00a.m., when you're too tired and deranged from a nightmarish deathmarch through labor to know just what the hell you are signing up for.

 

Scrub up and go into the ER, where your wife is tied to the bed, crucify-style.  Stand behind the barrier at her head with the anesthesiologist, who is deeply involved in whatever novel he's reading.  Smell the burning flesh as they start to cut the little guy out.  Hear the slopping sounds as they do whatever the hell they're doing on the other side of the sheet.  See your wife start to shake uncontrollably as her body reacts to the shock of what she can't feels from the boobs down.  Dr. Reader, our anesthesiologist, hops up and says you'll be a dad soon, have a look.

 

For those of you who run into this situation.  DO NOT STAND UP. There's not much except a Chinese buffet gone horribly, horribly wrong that can prepare you for what you are about to see.  DAMMIT, WHY DID YOU STAND UP?!?!  Bloody mess of a baby flies out, Lion King hold by the doctor, clamps come in and they chop him off and send him to the side table.  And all I can think is:  Is that a vagina on the table?

 

Hard to track from watching your new kid and wondering if he's OK vs. seeing your wife disassembled on the table.  Of course I was happy to see the little guy.  How couldn't you be?  I was absolutely giddy.  But when they called out his weight at 8 lbs, 11.2 oz.  I can't help but think they could have figured out that he wouldn't fit with a simple ultrasound up front.

 

More later.  The little guy settled down from his 3 hour screamfest and will need food in 2 hours or less.  So, need to crash while I can.

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