[Tukkers op FOK!] #1014 Daywalk3r. Van harte, ouwe lul.

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Op woensdag 8 mei 2013 09:23 schreef Kreator het volgende:

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Ha Henrike. Vertel eens een leuk nieuwtje. Hoe is het met je liefdesleven? Wat ga je doen? Ik weet niks van je. .

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Op woensdag 8 mei 2013 10:01 schreef norich het volgende:
Dat was het antwoord op de andere vraag

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"Honey? When was my last period?"

Bought a box of two pregnancy tests (tests come 2 sticks to a box), both were faulty. Bought another box at a different store, same brand. Both of those are from the same manufacturing lot. Also, faulty. Buy a third box, different brand, didn't even have to wait the full three minutes for "Pregnant." At least I got my money back for the other four.

Congratulations! You're pregnant!

During my first exam they tell me, "You also have a tipped uterus and the pregnancy/birth is going to be difficult."

I have to stay within five feet of a trashcan at all times because at any moment projectile vomiting might ensue. I threw up on one of my dogs. She didn't seem that upset about it, though.

Seven months pregnant. "You are borderline for gestational diabetes. You're going to have to test four times a day." On the bright side I've gotten over my fear of needles because of all the jabbing.

"The baby isn't moving around as much as we'd like. We're going to induce."

They proceed to make me check into the hospital on New Year's Eve at 6 a.m. and start 2 IV lines, one with Pitocin to induce labor. I have to drag two IV poles to the bathroom whenever I have to pee. Twelve hours later, no baby but I'm still having contractions. Luckily, there is a Law and Order marathon on the TV. I am by myself because my in laws are in town.

24 hours go by and I'm still on a table. I ask to go home because the baby clearly doesn't want to come out despite my labor. "No, we're going to poke you with a stick and everything will go much faster." Why didn't they just start with the stick?

So they poke me with a stick, AKA break my water. And shit they were right, that does speed it up. So I call my husband and tell him it's time to come sit with me. The pain is intense and a little Filipino nurse keeps yelling at me to take drugs. I have now been in labor for 24 hours straight. I discovered that when your water breaks, it doesn't all just come out at once. It's sneaky. It will come out only a bit at a time. When you move or stand up or sneeze more will come out. You have to change your hospital gown five or six times.

The Filipino nurse convinces me to get a shot so I can take a nap. She seems like a nice lady despite the yelling. The shot makes me fall off the table. I have discovered that opiates are not for me. So even though I am no longer afraid of needles, I won't be shooting heroin.

Several hours later I wake up screaming. Apparently the shot has worn off. The doctor comes in and says, "If you don't get an epidural, I'm going to schedule for a C-section."

Reluctantly, I agree to the Epidural. By the time the guy gets there, I have been awake and in labor for 36 hours on a table. I barely understand anything he says. The epidural is attached to the wall, not to a pole, so now I have to have a catheter put in. None of this is going the way I saw it on the Discovery Channel.

The epidural doesn't work and I demand that they bring the guy back in so I can talk to him. I tell him that I feel like I'm being ripped apart in my downstairs area. He looks at me like I've gone insane. "Epidurals won't do anything about that," he tells me. "They just stop the pain of contractions. That's the only pain that didn't bother me!

Hour 40 of labor and they disconnect the Epidural of Fail. I am now all systems go for pain. But...I get to have the catheter taken out and Law and Order is still on. That's nice. The doctor says if I don't have the baby soon I'm getting a C-sec. It takes 6 hours of hard pushing and the baby gets partway stuck out of my vag.

I'm exhausted and I can't do it anymore. I ask for the vacuum. Doc says no. I still can't get the baby out. Doc says "Fine, we'll get the vacuum." Then the Doc announces to the whole delivery room that we don't know the sex of the baby (we opted not to know) so the nurse must now search for a GENDER NEUTRAL COLORED CAP FOR THE VACUUM. This is a ploy to stall until I push the baby out on my own. I attempt to kick the doctor in the face.

The nurse finally finds a white colored cap and they pull the baby out 46 hours and 26 minutes after I began labor. Now I require thirty minutes of stitching up and I can't hold the baby. The doctor proceeds to tell me all about the documentary she watched last night about Australopithecus. I consider stabbing her with her scissors.

They let me go home but warn me if I poop out of my vagina to come back in. I had no response to that. There were no words that would form in my brain to reply to the possibility of Vagina Poop. No one tells you this stuff until it's too late.

Five days after the baby is born, she is at the Pediatrician, who examines her. The Doc pulls up a chair, right in front of my face, hands shaking, and tells me that she is going to call the Children's Hospital and set up an appointment with a Pediatric Cardiologist and we have to get there immediately. My husband drives across town as fast as he can and deposits us at the entrance so he can park. I rip half my stitches running up the stairs to the second floor rather than wait for the elevator.

After hours of ultrasounds, the baby has a heart murmur but requires no surgery. If I was inclined to believe in God I might have thanked him, but I was still missing several stitches and Vagina Poop was a shadowy, yet terrifying possibility, so I didn't.

For two weeks, pooping is a terrifying endeavor for me for many reasons. On the one hand, it might relocate to my vag. Also, it is a little like giving birth daily to a giant anaconda because of all the stretching and tearing. It takes hours of pep talks to myself to get me onto the toilet. They should make an Epidural for pooping after childbirth. That's when you really need one.

Growing up my father used to say, "I will beat you so hard you'll have to take your shirt off to go to the bathroom." I never understood this since there were never any beatings and even if there were, why would you need to take your shirt off?

Now I know. You really do take your shirt off to go the bathroom when you're in that much pain.

The baby vomits and we take her to the Pediatrician. She needs intestinal surgery. On the day we drive her to the hospital for check in, our Land Rover dies in the parking garage and has to be towed. A crack developed in the middle seam and coolant got distributed throughout the engine. It needs a new engine. I didn't even know it was possible to need an entire new engine.

The baby had to stay a week longer in the hospital than they thought she would. In 11 days I never left the room. Thankfully it had a shower. I saw Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix almost a dozen times.

Fucking Voldemort.

But then it got better.

TL;DR: Law and Order, Vagina Poop, Voldemort.

Edit: typo

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Op woensdag 8 mei 2013 11:45 schreef Daywalk3r het volgende:
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