Friday, June 30, 2006

Ummm...44 weeks and no, I am not still pregnant thank all the holy stars in heaven

Per some friendly and also some rather forceful requests, I have caved and will faithfully (ummm right) update my blog. However, I have a bit of a conundrum. You see, the name of this blog at present is 29 year old toddler. Obviously (or not so obviously according to my niece), I am no longer pregnant and therefore the term no longer applies; again, thankfully.
Yes, it is true. My days of barfing, pant wetting, and spitting daggers out of my eyes are a thing of the past and now I get to laugh without mercy at all my friends that are still in the throes of the horror we like to call "pregnancy". What a pleasant name for a truly masochistic experience.

Anywho. I need a new name for the blog, but since my brain departed my body along with my little bean (I mean baby if you are scratching your head), I need some assistance coming up with something remarkably clever and charming. So please post your suggestions for all the world to read and mock. It's fun!

Part of the reason I didn't want to update this blog is that there really is not enough mg's, gb's, or whatever to hold all the stories of all the hell that I went through in bringing my little nugget into the world (again, BABY. Pay attention people!).

Perhaps I could recap and then provide detail as I so choose at a future date? Alrighty then.

To sum up: on week 31 and after blowing up to the size of the worlds largest bloated blowfish, I was checked in to the Overlake Hilton where I was told I would be held captive prisoner for the duration of my pregnancy. I was actually admitted solely on the size of my ankles. How many people can say that?
You may wonder how long the duration of my pregnancy was. Here's how it went: "OK Micaela, bring all the books and movies from home your car can carry, because you are going to be here for at least 5 weeks. Well, maybe we'll hold you out for 3-4 weeks. I think we'll shoot for two. Can you last till next Friday? Ummm...we're booking the O.R. for 20 minutes ago". This conversation took place over 3 days, and the last statement came after they realized I had gained 15 lbs over the weekend (and NO, I did not eat 1100 donuts in 72 hours. It's called WATER), had blood pressure readings like an 85 year old 800 lb man who ate only onion rings and cheeze whiz his whole life, and spilled enough protein out of my failing liver/kidneys to allow someone to live on the Atkins diet for a week. Not a pretty picture.

Really, I wish you could see the pictures. But not enough to post them. Only people who watch horror movies for recreation are allowed the visual. Do you remember that Mike Meyers character Fat Bastard (sorry Mom) in one of the Austin Powers movies? Add that to the Stay Puft Marshallow man with teeeny slits for eyes and you have me. This should help paint the picture: I was so swollen that they couldn't find MY JUGULAR (yes, I do mean that giganto vein in your neck) without an ultrasound machine. Not a joke.

So shortly after noticing my body's not-so-subtle way of screaming "TAKE THAT BABY OUT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!", I was wheeled (in the large bottomed wheelchair mind you) into the O.R. and approximately 48 seconds (OK, after the 25 minutes it took to find my spinal cord for the drugs) and one confused question by me "what's that burning smell?" (answer: my burning flesh), Adeline Reese Crapo was born at a whopping 3 lbs 2 ozs.

Sidenote: have you ever considered that you weigh X times more than your child? In my case, that was a very alarming number.

More on Addy later and her fun filled and festive five weeks in the hospital. Rest assured, she did great and is eating like a champ and gaining weight like a little porker. I never thought I'd be so happy to see a double chin!

For those of you who haven't had kids yet, don't be alarmed. Only 1 in a gajillion has as much fun with pregnancy as I did, and it really is not necessarily an exercise in masochism as I alluded to earlier - except it might be for me if I do this again. But don't cry for me Argentina, because it is OVER, and it was over 2 MONTHS EARLY! Neener neener I say to all you smug preggers who aerobisize until your 38th week. I may have looked like one of the bad guys in the Lord of the Rings movies, but I was still done two months before you!
Throw me a bone here - there had to be at least one positive to all this - besides of course my cute little poopsie!


Anonymous said...

Mick! So good to see you again. I've missed your humor. I think you should rename your blog "Tales of the Sleep Deprived and Hormonal but Really I Love Being a Mommy Really."