Delivery Don'ts

I have no idea how this happened, but I did not get any pics of Beets on Halloween....she is at that photographic stage where most pics we have of her are simply blurs of color because she can't sit still for squat. BUT, here is one of Ruggie and Mr. Tuna. Ruggie is sporting camo hunting gear and a Texas A&M hat (our alma mater)....oh, the drama behind THIS costume I cannot even get into....let's just leave it at OY!

Now, I don't want to jinx it, but it sure seems as if Miss Beets has not been nursing as much in the middle of the night. Are we fast approaching sleeping through the WHOLE NIGHT? I shant even speak it for fear she will whip back into a nighttime nursing frenzy.

In a quest to avoid work this morning, I started e-mailing my great friend Sue-bee and we were reminiscing of those days of pre-baby yore when we would actually listen to stupid advice. Case in point - what to take into the delivery room with you. I took one thing into my Ruggie-delivery room that makes me roar with insane laughter when I think of it: my Anna Karenina book because, you know, when you are in-between contractions, you can catch up on some light reading. I don't know if we ever retrieved that book from when I threw it across the room while having a contraction.

It is with a hint of nostalgia at my purely innocent and stupid pre-delivery self that I think back on all those things I wanted to make sure I had with me for the delivery. I scoured the internet looking for hip hospital gowns with leopard or tiger prints. I bought a cute-as-a-button headband to ensure I did not get a stray hair in my eye as I was gently, oh-so-gently, pushing my slick baby out.

Listen up, first time pregnant moms....and listen really hard. Delivery and post-delivery is NO time to try to look like a rock star. You have burst almost every blood vessel in your eyes and head from pushing, are bleeding like a stuck pig, have a belly that is hanging like an old wineskin, are keeled over from achy post-contractions and could potentially have stitches going from your belly button all the way to the crack of your butt. At that point, who gives a crap if you remembered to bring your new undies bedazzled with jewels that say "New Mom"? Sure, there may be a mom or two out there that IS a rock star....I'm talking to you, Heidi Klum...and was able to pull off a post-delivery photo opp where you did NOT look like death warmed over, but you are in the minority. For the rest of us....stand proudly with those disgusting post-delivery photos of ourselves because looking down at our beautiful babies makes it all worth it, doesn't it?