I Prefer the Stones

I wrote this a couple of days ago and posted it on MJ's blog, but not everyone reads her's so it was suggested that I post it here too.

Nature is a funny thing. She has an extreme agenda when it comes to the persistence of existence, and obfuscation is a major tool – I think the Beatles put it Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da something, something, something. Last August my wife, MJ, got me drunk and LMJ was born May 13, 2007. We all know that MJ feels the princess from the Princess and the Pea was Spartan in her stoicism vis-à-vis an uncomfortable mattress. This belies her inner strength and the strength of women in general. MJ went into labor last Saturday night after pancakes, omelets, fruit salad, and great company. When we got to the hospital she was hooked up to some really cool equipment that simultaneously monitored her blood pressure, the baby’s heart beat, the intensity of her contractions, and how the dollar was doing against the yen. They gave MJ an IV to keep her hydrated, which did nothing except make her have to pee every fifteen minutes. She went about eight hours before she got an epidural – she doesn’t like needles or drugs. Apparently, the nurses had difficulty selling MJ on the intensity and optional nature of her pain. Even after the epidural was inserted there was still a communication breakdown (driving me insane, Led Zeppelin). The nurse anesthetist had to come back two or three times over the next couple of hours because MJ was interpreting, “You should feel no pain, only pressure,” as “It should hurt somewhat less than it did earlier.” They had inserted it too deeply or in the wrong place, and so only her left side was getting the juice – contraction comes, left side pressure, right side full on pain. When they finally got the epidural correct the only way MJ could tell she had a left leg was by looking at it. There was about a four hour lull in the drama after this because her pain was managed and all we could do is wait for her cervix to finish dilating. When MJ reached nine centimeters the nurse sent me to get some lunch – keeping MY strength up was so very important at this point. I was gone about forty-five minutes, and when I got back “we” were ready to push. MJ pushed intensely for more than two hours. I’m going to go Tarantino here for a moment and jump ahead. MJ won’t run a ¼ mile. She can’t breathe. It hurts her ankles. It hurts her knees. LMJ weighed in at 7lbs. 12oz. MJ at her most bloated is considered narrow. Child bearin’ hips she does not possess, but she wasn’t having a c-section. She planned on squeezing that battleship through that dog house. Those that have given or witnessed a birth understand what she was going through. For those that haven’t, imagine living on Wonder bread and KOOL Filter Kings for a week and then trying to pinch that deuce. Two hours into the pushing and the nurses lying about how, “We’re almost there!” and, “Just a little bit more! I can see the head!” the doctor showed up and started telling us about some kind of a vacuum. I wanted the baby out and my wife to rest. MJ wasn’t having a c-section. This seemed like a solution we could all agree upon. Doc oversold the vacuum, because before he asked the nurse to even turn it on he treated MJ like she was wrapping paper and he was gift wrapping a Big Wheel. Even after tripling the size of the doggy door and basically strapping a suction powered winch to the baby’s head he still had to tug like he was pulling a tree stump to get the U.S.S. LMJ out. She came out with a displacement of 7lbs. 12oz. There was more blood than I’ve ever seen; it was all my wife’s. Doc used about 3 ½ spools of thread sewing her up. And a day later Mama said she could totally see herself doing it all again. Witnessing my child’s birth traumatized me enough so that I’m perfectly happy with one and done. Child birth nearly killed my wife and it didn’t even give her a moment’s pause. I think my perception of what happened is pretty accurate. I think MJ's perception is clearly skewed, but ultimately it's her's that matters in the scheme of things. It's funny how nature makes sure life goes on.