Nasty Gigi Gives Birth

Preggo me at Portos

My baby, Huckleberry, has turned a half a year, it's about time that I write about the chaos that was his birth.

I worked up until my due date because I am an idiot. He was due on a Tuesday and my last day was on a Friday. But, he ended up being ten days late, so for a time you could find me laying on the couch binge watching, eating, playing video games, and sleeping. It was fantastic. But, my doc said they needed to get the baby out so they scheduled an induction. My mom flew in a day before my induction. The morning I picked her up I took her to this cuban bakery called Portos. Delicious.

We got a lot done that day, we bought a rug, we found an amazing thrift store near my house, we had sushi while sitting in the blaring hot sun, and we watched a movie. All in all a good last day of freedom.

My mom thinks this picture is funny

In the late afternoon I was on the phone with my friend when a gush of water came flowing out. At first I shrugged it off, "It's probably pee."  I walked into my bedroom when, "Goosh!" more came out. I informed my friend, "I have to see if this is pee or not." She laughed and we hung up.

I'm holding on for dear life.

My husband and mother were sitting in the living room when I yelled from my bedroom. I stared at the brown liquid on my white tiled floor, "Do you know what's going on?!" They both assumed that I was still on the phone with my friend. I opened the door, with my long skirt up to my thighs. They both jumped up and then the contractions started.

I'm huge. I had no idea.

Before we headed to the ER my husband had to make a quick run to Target. Yes, in all of his neurotic episodes he had to make sure he had all the materials for his sub for the following day (he's a teacher). If you had walked into Target that night you would have seen me bent over in pain. Sorry not sorry.
When we got to the intake room the contractions were getting crazy. Apparently that brown pee was a sign that the baby was in distress, so they had to hook me up to a machine, so I couldn't get up and walk around. I had gone to all these hippie dippy birthing classes, learned all these exercises, and I couldn't do any of them. I couldn't even use the flipping birthing ball. My husband bought two. Instead I became nauseous and I vomited sushi all over my mother. Sorry mommy. Blame the nurses. They couldn't provide me with a barf bag quick enough the entire time I was there.

Me getting the epidural. Not fun.

The only thing that brought me comfort through the contractions was this relaxation exercise about a red triangle. "Imagine a blank slate. Draw a red triangle. Fill it in. Breathe. Erase it..." I'm paraphrasing but it was semi ridiculous. I made my husband and mother recite it like 1000x. It helped because for some reason I was having contractions back to back. It was like being kicked in the stomach and vagina over and over again. I have never been in a knife fight, but I assume that labor is a lot like a knife fight minus the stabbings. I was trying to hold off on the drugs to avoid a c-section, but I couldn't do it. I looked at my mother, who was against me doing drugs, with painful eyes. She said, "Do you need the drugs?" I nodded uh-huh and she raced out into the hallway. It was our Terms of Endearment moment. 

After that it was easy street.  My mother, husband and I took naps through the night while the night staff monitored the baby. His heartbeat was slowing down, because he was in distress, so my husband and mother were worried. I wasn't because I felt like I was floating on a cloud of marshmallows.

Once early morning hit my friend came equipped with Mcdonalds which I couldn't have. All I was allowed was ice chips. I kept dreaming of apple juice. So weird. I was all ripe and ready for pushing and everyone thought that the baby would poke his head out by the afternoon. Once I started pushing I did manage to push out some poop. It happens. My mother said I was doing what she called the "Nacho Libre" which I didn't get until recently. I was trying to be nice during all of this, and as you all know I am a funny guy, but I did yell at my mother for making jokes during labor. I remember saying, "This isn't funny and it's not a time for jokes." She retorted,
"It's good to have a little levity." Stop. Seriously, Mom.
I also yelled at my husband for rubbing my legs with his long ass fingernails. I asked him nicely a couple of times but the forth or fifth time I definitely called him an idiot.

So, I was pushing and pushing and he wasn't coming and his heartbeat was dropping so they decided to get out the vacuum suction cups thingys. When they brought these out a whole swarm of people filed into the room. It was like a crowd of baby hipsters rushing the stage at Coachella except the stage was my vagina. So they were holding my legs, giving me encouragement, and attaching the suction cup to the baby's head. The doctor told me they would try three times and if they couldn't get him out they would have to do  a c-section. It popped once. It popped...this time when it popped I felt this rush of something and then SPLAT, all of the people viewing my vagina became covered in my blood. They weren't wearing masks. One of the nurses got some in her eye. I was unaware that this was happening at the time. My mother told me the blood went all the way up to the wall. And then it popped a third time and this black nurse spoke up, " Ya'll need to stop she's had too much. I know I'm stepping out of my boundaries, but ya'll need to stop now." That was when I was informed I would be having a c-section.

I cried. My husband almost fainted. I was immediately put on a stretcher so they could shave my pubic hair. I made jokes like, "Wow! spa treatment and I don't have to pay for this? Could you give me a Brazilian?" I always attack fear with humor. But I was scared. Mostly because at a dinner party I hosted my husband's friend told me that at her c-section she could actually feel her guts out on the table. I was trying not to think of that. The nurse was having a hard time getting all the hair because I don't really trim down there. I know this because when I was taken to the operating room the doctors questioned the nurses if they had even shaved and they made them shave it again. What service!

So, they gave me more drugs. And when I say more I mean the good stuff. They gave me what I refer to as the Michael Jackson drug: propofol. I can't believe he took that on the regular. It made me feel like nothing. My husband came in looking all crazy and horrified. I started shaking because of the drugs. So, they gave me more. While I was waiting for the second dose to kick in I heard the anesthesiologists talking about how they were going to go clubbing after work. And then I passed out only to wake up the sounds of a baby cry and my husband's wide eyes of hysteria as tears fell from my eyes. I wasn't crying because I heard my baby, although maybe that was part of it, I was also crying because the ordeal was over.
I don't remember kissing my baby because of all the drugs I was given, but I sort of do. Anyway it turned out to be a nice photo of Huckleberry and I and then I passed out.

I woke up as I was being rolled into the room where my mom, husband, and friend were. They were gazing at the baby. When I saw them I yelled, "He looks just like me!"  My mom told me that his legs were wrapped around the umbilical cord and that's why he wasn't coming out. She decided that his nickname would be Bungee because of this. They immediately had me feed him, let my friend hold him, and then gave me these large pads because apparently I was going to bleed for awhile. I took a shot of the giant pad because I am Nasty Gigi and texted it to my best friend in Oakland to announce that my son had been born.

Nasty Gigi for Life