I don’t have children and I’ve never birthed one. I don’t have the guts to do it just yet. I’m 34 and still trying to get up the nerve…… then I read Lindsey’s story below, it made me laugh hysterically then wet my pants with fear…. then laugh again… then sweat with panic…. but again I laughed. Wait.. am I pregnant?

You amazing women who have birthed a child will relate to Lindsey and laugh sans the fear! Lindsey, I heart you for bringing your nurse bottles of wine! Now.. on to Lindsey’s story:

As many of you know, child birth is a unique experience. Some will lie and say it doesn’t hurt or it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. If you are one of those people, what are you smoking? And may I have some, please? For the rest of us, we know it is a terrifying, yet rewarding experience with many ups and downs along the way. This is just one inkling of how my “labor” went.

In honor of keeping this short and sweet, I will not explain all the events leading up to my delivery; just know that my blood pressure was sky high (this I have to thank to a piece of crap boss and client that I was dealing with on that particular day). So, I was admitted to the hospital and on bed rest for 7 days when my doctor decided I needed to have a c-section. LONGER story short-all went well with the delivery aside from my daughter being 6 weeks premature; she is now a happy, healthy 3 year old which I attribute all my gray hair to. However, back to post-delivery: I had some trouble with clotting and was in A LOT of pain. I saw stars….literally, saw stars and had to be given a shot. Nurses exact words, “This will help your uterus contract BUT you will shit yourself without a moment’s notice.” WHAT?? “We have to give you this, but just know that you will have immediate diahrrea that you cannot control.” Well, flippin great. So, I get the shot and about 5 minutes later, I had this BURNING in my stomach. About that time, my husband opens the door to my room and says “Hi,honey. John and Jane are here to see you.” I, of course scream something unimaginable to let him know that no one was welcome, period. I let the nurse know I was about to “soil” myself and she grabbed a bed pan, and about that time, I let the LOUDEST, MOST POLLUTED fart that seriously blew that poor nurses hair back out of her face. Then nothing. I never did soil myself, but I could never look that nurse in the face again. EVER. I dropped off 3 bottles of wine as a thank you a few weeks later with an apology note. Jill, if you are reading this, you are an amazing nurse and I’d thank you in person if I didn’t think I’d drop dead of humiliation.

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