“Grandma, are you Daddy’s Mom?”
I looked down at my 6-year-old grandson’s beautiful eyes staring up at me, his little brow slightly furrowed as he tried to get his family tree sorted out in his mind. “Yes,” I smiled, while silently praying “Dear God, please, don’t let this question go any further.” But God was apparently taking another call, because my little guy thought for a moment and said, “If Daddy was in your tummy, how did he get out?” Oh, crap.
Time stood still as my brain replayed my experience of bringing young grasshopper’s daddy into the world, and the movie highlights included a few indelible moments:
– I gained 65 pounds. And I’m 5’3″ tall. My baby hump was so big, I was ultrasounded twice for twins. Doc said there simply had to be two babies in there. Nope. I was just fat. Of course, to be fair, I hoovered frosted brownies like they were life support, obviously thinking I was going to have a 65-pound baby, so it was a 9-month eating free-for-all. (My size-2 sister took one horrified look at my pre-birthing photo and asked, “Were you really that hungry or is this some kind of freaky hormonal thing??” My mother still blames me for Sissy opting not to have children.)
– At my Lamaze class, the instructor was speaking about birth control after the first few months post-birth. I raised my hand and asked, “What about the first three months?” which promptly sent seasoned birthers into peals of group laughter. “Oh, honey,” one woman replied, wiping her eyes, “this must be your first. For six months, birth control is ‘Get off me.'” Good to know.
– At a New Year’s Eve party, when I was 7 months into a what felt like a 2-year pregnancy (elephants give birth in less time…true story), we ran smack into Hubs’ ex-girlfriend, a perky, annoying aerobics instructor with a killer body. She was wearing a skirt almost longer than her woo-hoo, with a midriff baring top, and 4-inch stilettos (seriously, girl, put some clothes on), while I was wearing a pup tent with matching flats. And since my hair wouldn’t take a color from day one of my pregnancy, it had returned to its natural rodent-brown shade, so I was in a pup tent with matching flats and rodent-colored hair. We left early, with me bawling all the way home.
– My due date came and went, and I was getting so depressed, my mom suggested pedicures to help pass the time. Upon arrival, the nail tech announced, “Are you sure? You look like you’re going to have that baby now.” “I’m never going to have this baby,” I replied. “I’m going to be pregnant until I die. Let’s do this.” We happily got soaked, scrubbed, and polished, until I stood up and my water broke. Seriously?? All instructions to my OB/GYN to “mind the wet toes” were blithely ignored.
– Hubs finally showed up with my overnight bag and a copy of my birthing plan. Since I was only going to do this once, I wanted it to be perfect. Part of “perfect” meant no drugs. This was going to be a serene, life-changing, mystical event that bonded mother and child like the biblical Madonna and her baby. Yeah, no. I was in labor 45 hours. Again, not a typo. Forty. Five. Hours. The nurses had four shift changes while I was there, each time coming into the room with “What, girl?? You’re still here??” Well, not by choice, lady. This kid keeps changing his mind and crawling back up the chute. The birthing plan got “accidentally” shredded while I demanded, and got, enough drugs to induce endless hours of enthusiastic, but widely off-key renditions of “I met him on a Sunday and my heart stood still. Da doo run run run, da doo run run.” Yep, I sucked at parenting, and the kid wasn’t even born yet.
– By the 45th hour, Doc was prepping to do a cesarean section, when one of the nurses shouted, “I can see his head!!” You don’t know humble until two doctors, eight nurses, your husband, AND your parents (and some guy I’m pretty sure was the night janitor) are all staring up your skirts, excitedly pointing to something trying to come out of your body, and you don’t care. I was exhausted, I had no dignity left, my throat was hoarse from days of singing, and I was done.
Besides the “no drugs” instruction in my now-defunct 3-page birthing plan, I’d also stipulated “no forceps.” Women have been popping kids out for centuries without help. How hard could it be? But Jake wasn’t budging. Finally, Doc takes my face in his hands and says, “If you don’t push, I’m going to have to use forceps.” I looked at him and mumbled sleepily, “I don’t care if you use an ice cream scooper. I’m done. Get him out yourself.”
Two days later, we proudly took home a beautiful, perfect, bouncing baby boy, and I was besotted for life. But as I looked down at my grandson’s trusting face, I smiled and said, “You know what? Let’s go read a book. Grandma knows a great story called ‘Hansel & Gretel.'” Yeah, it’s about a witch in the forest that kidnaps children, bakes them in an oven, and then eats them. But I figure it’ll require less childhood therapy than the story of how Daddy came to be.
Genuine LOL at the ice-cream scoop comment :)
Good for you for sidetracking the kid :D
Ah, Vikki, your stories always make me laugh! Thanks for starting Monday off right…
What a great way to start off the week-hilarious story and you WILL be at BlogHer next year reading this for humor-too funny!
HA HA HA!! I love the part about how you scared your sister out of having children…pretty sure I might have done the same! ;) So funny!-Ashley
I am so sending Allie to you for the “talk” since her birth experience was just about as bad, until the C-section when I proposed to the guy supplying the good drugs!
hahahaha WELL DONE! On the diversion, but also that birth. LAWS, I thought my 27 hours was bad. For my son, yes I gained over 60 lbs and I’m also 5’3″, they had to use the “salad tongs” AND the vacuum extractor. UGH! Well worth it obviously. I’m glad I never thought I would be brave enough for the no drugs part, but they let my epidural wear off because they thought I just didn’t know how to push. No, it turns out you can’t sue your OB for that. I checked.
I never did understand young people being pregnant when they went in for their 6 week check up. I cried when I got the green light.
Humble is also when you poop pee and fart while people are down there. Eight years later I’m horrified but I wouldn’t be able to pick those people out in a line up if I had to. HOWEVER, my husband likes to throw in the occasional tease.
LOL at your Hansel and Gretel ending. When I attempted to read that to my son the first time, I said, “Oh my.” Let’s pick something else. I was so excited about Grimm’s Fairy tales. Who knew they were so dark!
Oh I remember that feeling all too well of thinking this baby is just never going to come out!
I don’t envy you having that question from your grandson. I don’t mind with my own children as I have no one to get angry with me, like a grandparent does with the child’s parents.
My kids know that a doctor has to get a seed from Daddy and get it in to Mummy’s tummy for the seed she has that is already waiting.
OMG, Vikki!! This is the best way to start a Monday morning!! Thanks so much for such a hilarious post!!
My kid is looking at me like I have lost my mind! I can’t stop giggling :) thanks for sharing!!
I love this!!! 45 hours, you poor thing! I went 23 and at one point, I think on hour 20 I actually said to my husband lets just forget this and go home, and I meant it!! Thanks for a great story to start my week off!
This post was hilarious! I love your observations on life and your ability to laugh at yourself.
I’ve witnessed Mrs Jones go through the birthing process (twice) and recognize it can be traumatic. Not quite as painful as the onlooking father’s role though – I’ve still got her finger-nail imprints on my hand to prove it!
hahahahaha! Hansel and Gretel requires less childhood therapy.
That is classic.
I am dreading this convo with my kids, maybe I can get away with the Hansel and Gretel story too? Or I’ll just send them to grandma’s and she can tell them.
You have outdone yourself once again!
My five year old grandson was asking me questions about the baby in his mummy’s belly, when he asked “Did you have any babies?” I said yes. Your Daddy and your Uncle Jason are my babies. (I’m 5 ft. tall and my sons are 5’9″ and 6″1′.) Grandson looked at my belly, thought about it for a minute, then said, “You’re funny grammy!”
No wonder your sister didn’t want any kids!
You had me at “ultrasounded twice for twins!” Hilarious stuff!
Diverting attention was a good way to deal with that question, Vikki – I think you would have scarred your grandson for life with those highlights. As a mom, though – I found them hilarious.
LOL! What a great story! Oh yeah, it only takes one kid to kill all concern for modesty! Thanks so much for joining us for This Momma’s Meandering Mondays! Have a wonderful week!
Hoovering brownies! Hahhaha! I did the same thing, and at least pregnancy gives an excuse for eating anything and everything in our path.
We’ve all got the first-birth story. Yours sounds A LOT like mine! Forceps included!
I like your style ~ diversion is always the best answer! My kids have asked me some crazy questions (especially between the ages of 6 and 10) and my stock answer was always, “Who wants ice cream?” Now that they are teens, they are telling me crazy things and I need a sedative! ;)
This was great, Vikki. I have this problem with my 7 year old, who’s beginning to ask more and more questions. I totally get why somebody would make up the story about the stork. The way I see it, you were just insuring the family line–because explaining 45 hours of labor to your grandchild at 6 might just be enough to seal the deal for your young grasshopper. Birth control for life.
Thanks so much for linking up at the Mischievous Mondays hop. :)
A pup tent dress, flats and mousy brown hair – me too! But what a wonderful thing that even after 45 hours of labor, the second your baby is born you (kind of) forget about everything else and are just in love with your new little guy.
THIS IS HILARIOUS!!!!
Our oldest son, Ben, is 29 years old, but to this day, while other people have elevator mishaps for their anxiety dreams, my remains Ben’s birth. Batted around the nursing shifts, pushed for two hours, attempt to vacuum out the child with vacuum attached to his head, finally — forceps. Then, lying there for what seemed like forever and finally asking the obstetrician how many stitches. His reply, as he kept sewing, “Well, I’m on number 18 now”. Apparently, behind their patients’ backs, the nurses call it a “vaginal C-section”.
When the same boy was 3 years old, he asked me “How do you make a human being?” Are you kidding me? Aren’t you supposed to have “the talk” with your father when you’re —like 12? So, I punted. “Um, Daddy’s a doctor. Why don’t you ask him when he gets home.” The kid disappeared for an hour at which point he ran up to me, eyes gleaming with triumph–“I figured out how to make a human being? You make it out of Legos.”
Love it. Hilarious as always Vikki! My son believes that the doctor took my belly off to get him out of there. I’m fine with that for now.
Hilarious as always. You deserve a medal!
I think that is one of the best birth stories I have ever read! Congratulations!
45 HOURS????!??!?!?! That’s like… my worst nightmare.
Hilarious. And why am I not surprised you sing when you’re in pain and drugged? This was fantastic!
You are a genius. I have no idea what else to day. The ice cream scooper? I was already delirious with laughter, but that put me over the edge. Cheers!
Good Job of diverting his attention. My granddaughter is 9 and I’m living in fear that I will be the one she asks questions of!
OMG!! Laughed so hard I cried!! Absolutely hilarious!
This was too cute. Maybe we really can get out these tough questions by saying “good question for your parents”. After being through this twice I’m done with being the giver of the information. I remember watching TV one night and my daughter said “I want to know about this sex thing and I want to know now”.
Thanks for the chuckle, Vikki, and a walk down memory lane. It brought back painful memories of the birth of my 2nd child (long labor, shift changes, the LARGE baby head, etc.) and the BIG questions from all 3 of my boys: how did the baby get in there and how did it get out? Lol!
Ice cream scoop!!! LOVE it! Childbirth does have a way of completely stripping us, literally and figuratively, of our modesty, doesn’t it?
Thanks for linking up to the Glitter Fart hop!
This was hilarious! But really, do survive all that, you’re a real super mom! Here from Humor Me.
oh gosh, i feel your pain about long labors! came by from Baby for Scale on blogger. great birthing & quick on your toes post!
We all have the ‘birthing story’ don’t we. But, we don’t all tell it as well as you! So funny. Thanks for sharing it. Found you via linkinwithmyladies blog hop. I hang out over at http://www.ritewhileucan.com where I talk about all things stationery and the lost art of letter writing — we should all write down our birthing stories so when the kiddies ask we send them to the basement to read it! :)
This is my first time visiting your site and I love it! Great article and it had me chuckling all the way through. I look forward to reading more!
Great story, Loved the humor! BTW, ask any L&D nurse what they think of birth plans, I guarantee they will laugh at you. Just having a birth plan you’re destined for failure. No epidural, no IV, no pain med? You will end up needing all three,and probably an internal lead, IUPC catheter, and finally have that c-section that you feared so much.
Love the story! I found you at the Friday Flash Blog and would love if you stop by tomorrow at the Friday Follow Along and share this! http://leahinspired.com
Oh if only I could turn the story of birthing my children into something as entertaining and as funny as you did here! Vikki Claflin is the goddess of funny, yes I said that!!!!
I think this is my favorite story from the land of Vikki! Most excellent! :)
Great story of how your Jake came to be. And I’m so not looking forward to those questions from my granddaughter who, thankfully, can’t talk yet!!
They never arrive quite the way they’re supposed do they? But in the end I coudldn’t have cared less if mine had arrived in a taxi, as long as they got here safe. Great post. :-)
I don’t care if you use an ice cream scoop…seriously laughing out loud at that one! Can’t say I enjoyed any one of my deliveries. And 45 hours…ugh…I thought my 39 were bad. I did get the c section though and let me tell you I would have done them all that way if I hadn’t had a blip in the road. I have to add you to my bloglovin feed – I am loving your blog!
That was hilarious. Thank God I’m not a woman…I don’t know how you gals do it…I bang my toe on the entertainment center and I think I’m going to die…you woman are truly the stronger sex, hands down.
This made me laugh so much! I found you on Sadder But Wiser Girl. :)
Hahaha OMG you are honestly out of this world hilarious. I love the ice cream scooper LOL I was planning on writing my birth stories and now I am shy about it because nobody is topping This one LOL
Oh God … 45 hours? That’s insane! I would have definitely changed the subject on that one too. Yikes.
Thank you for linking to Raising Imperfection.
Please come back Friday to see if you were featured. :)
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Congrats Vikki~ Your post was picked from our Raising Imperfection link party Sunday to be featured today on my blog!
Feel free to grab the feature button and display it :)
http://raising-reagan.com/2013/08/09/feature-friday-week-33/
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lol, oh you are SO right about therapy! Not sure who will need it more – me or my kids when we finally get to this conversation! My oldest is 6 and is already stuffing toys up her shirt saying she’s having a baby!!
classic and hilarious! My daughter(5 at the time)started asking questions one day. When I got to the part about her being in my belly, she became scared and asked, “Did you EAT me?!”
What an amazing story!! I LOVED it. We all have our pregnancy stories that’s for sure. I do believe your version of your pregnancy journey definitely outshines any of mine though!! This was such a joy to read on a morning where I’m exhausted and fighting to wake up.
You are always funny, but this one, oh my goodness. I was laughing out loud the whole time. I “hoovered” up brownies too! And does anyone stick to their birth plan? I knew better… I just said, drugs and lets roll with it! :-)
Really loved this. Thanks for the laugh. I needed it.
OMG, my sides are splitting! I just found you from the TGIF Show Off Party, and I can’t wait to hit your “follow” button! What a good laugh!
SO funny and oh how true to life this is… Now, does JAKE know how he got from your tummy out to the world? Just curious. ;)
Hilarious! Sharing this story right now on Twitter!
You are truly the master. Such a fun and funny post. LOVE IT!
“You don’t know humble until two doctors, eight nurses, your husband, AND your parents (and some guy I’m pretty sure was the night janitor) are all staring up your skirts, excitedly pointing to something trying to come out of your body, and you don’t care.”
That statement. Right there.
I didn’t realize there was a problem with my daughter (she was stuck) until I looked up and every staff member on the floor, my boyfriend’s mother (who hated me) and I’m pretty sure a hired crowd from the geriatric ward were all staring between my legs.
And my birthing plan was a joke from the beginning.
Ah, good times! :)
So funny, so true! Loved it. I loved “rodent brown” hair color! The night before my first child was born and 40 pounds gained, I said to my husband, “I cannot take one more minute of this.” (I still had two weeks to go!) God took pity on me at 6:30am the next morning – my water broke and I was doing the happy dance in the shower to keep from getting my water on the carpet!
Thanks, Suzanne! Yep, it’s still rodent brown if I don’t color it. And Jake remained an only child. :) Thanks for stopping by. I’m checking out your blog!
So funny and yet not. Been there too. Yikes.
Had to tweet this!
What a side splittingly hilarious story! Well done. And you took me right back to when my son Steven was born.