peskypippi.comBecause I have a lot to say…

Birth stories (La La La). I’m not listening.

Not because I don’t like pain and contractions and epidurals.

I just don’t want to hear about YOUR labor story or HER labor story. At least, not so much.

I mean, you probably don’t want to hear about MY labor story, right?

It’s like this. You get a group of women together and when one starts talking about HER labor story, the others want to jump in and share their stories. When I was in labor…

“I was 6 centimeters dialated.”

“I had a water birth.”

“I only pushed twice.”

Blah, blah, blah. Then suddenly, everyone is talking at once. And no one is listening to anyone. And then women start trying to top each other with who has the most impressive-scary-wild-amazing birth story.

You nod. You gasp. You sympathize. You oohh and you ahhh. Because, like, that’s what you’re supposed to do when chatting about labor with fellow mothers.

But do you really care about the other woman’s story? No, I didn’t think so. Deep down, you want to tell YOUR story.

So here goes Pippi’s birthing and labor stories in the off-chance you want to hear:

1. First baby. Was induced. In labor for 20 hours. Had a midwife. No epidural. Wanted one at the last minute, but it was too late. Pushed for 30 minutes. Learned true meaning of “ring of fire.” Baby arrived healthy. Whew.
2. Second baby. Was induced. Had Mexican food the night before. Mistake. In labor for 14 hours. No epidural. Umbilical cord wrapped around baby’s neck; the nurse told me to to lie down, with minimal movement, for the remainder. Doctor was on her way…running late. The nurse asked me if I could hold the baby in. Are you kidding me?? Pushed for 15 minutes. Baby arrived healthy, despite the cord. Whew.
3. Third baby. Was induced. In labor for 13 hours. No epidural. It was approaching midnight. Tried so hard not to have an April Fool’s baby. Pushed for five minutes. Baby arrived healthy three minutes after midnight…on April 2. Whew.

Post a comment with your labor story. I would just LOVE to hear it.

Read other great blog posts at this link. Tell ‘em Pippi sent you.

It’s not a labor bag you need to pack, it’s your looking-pretty bag. And maybe a robe.

Because at the hospital, clothes don’t really matter. The hospital will give you a lovely, threadbare cotton gown, with gaps and holes, perfect for your bits and pieces to hang out.

What matters is the make-up. The pictures of mother and infant will be circling the globe–the ones taken immediately following birth and the next day, when all of the relatives bring their well wishes. Don’t you want to be look your best (even if you feel like crap?)

So you just gave birth. Ya might want to powder down that sweaty face. How about a little eyeliner? Or maybe some lipstick? Even out that blotchiness. Put a clip in that matted hair.

You may feel as if you’ve been run over by a truck. And you just ran a triple-marathon. And you have enough stitches in you to sew Raggedy Ann.

You just won’t look it.