27 hours

I’ve got a long overdue post on the labor and delivery. 27 hours must be some kind of record and folks all want to know what the experience was like. I dare say, there’s no other experience like childbirth and that’s why dudes will never understand. That’s also why they must be the first to apologize in every argument. It’s like a trump card with unlimited powers.

All fights with the husband should go something like this.

Husband: You’re being irrational and unreasonable.

Me: I gave birth to your kids. There’s nothing rational about THAT.

Husband: Yes, but it doesn’t mean I have to give in all the time.

Me: 27 hours. That’s how long I was in labor.

Husband: I’m sorry.

Me: You don’t look sorry. I need to see some remorse here.

*This should eventually lead to some diamonds, flowers and some pretty hot sexytime.

Never mind that in the 27 hours, I was chilling out watching Chuck for about 10, and for the next 16, I was under the influence of epidural. But then again, that 1 hour of pain almost drove me to hurl profanities at the nurse, midwife and most of all, the husband, without whom I would not be in that state to begin with.

You know how sometimes on retrospect, some experiences seem less painful with the benefit of hindsight? Like this one time, I had a bad fall while rollerblading and a huge patch of skin got scraped off from my right side near my spleen. It hurt then, but now that I think about it, the pain was not that bad.

TOTALLY NOT THE SAME for labor. When I think about it now, I still get a shiver down my spine, because it felt like someone was rolling my uterus into a tiny ball and mashing it up. Seriously, if they didn’t give me the epidural, I would have been shouting for cyanide.

Although I did enjoy the part where I could feel the baby coming out. The only good thing about the contractions was that it culminated into that one moment where I could finally start pushing the baby out. It was like a scene right out of Grey’s Anantomy. I had one leg propped against the gynae’s hip and the other leg against the nurse and they were both yelling at me to PUSH. At that point, I had no idea which muscle to contract anymore, so it was pretty much mayhem in there. I had sweat pouring down my face and I was making sounds only Chewbacca could understand.

The whole time, the husband was peering intently at the goings-on, looking terribly appalled. I’m sure glad its over, but I’m also glad I went through it. I say mothers should be given a medal of honor, like a purple heart or something. Then again, we’ve got the kids to show for it, which is a way cooler medal if you ask me.