After a 24 hour labour my son was pushed into the world without me uttering one swear word, just repeats of GET OUT, GET OUT during those last few minutes. He was a biggun at 9lb 6oz, or 4.25kg and I was glad he finally made it without having to be cut out. I didn’t think it funny when the doctor was stitching my third degree tears up down there when she said that I might have to have a caesarean next time due to the tearing this time. Creating another baby was the last thing on my mind at this stage.
He was lifted onto my stomach and did a big poo right then. Normally someone pooing on me would be really gross, but this didn’t worry me in the least. And someone else quickly wiped it up like they did for mine while I was pushing him out. I remember visiting a friend in hospital years ago after she had her first baby and her saying that pushing out a baby was like doing a big poo. She was right.
I tell him the story of how he pooed on me just after he was born, and he thinks it’s hilarious.
I also tell him that the first night he was home he cried nearly all night. I imitate his baby cries, WAH, WAH, WAH, WAH. And he also thinks that’s funny.
I didn’t think it was funny at the time. I just wanted to sleep. I like my sleep and it was frustrating that he was a sleep during the day and party at night baby for the first few days until his birth jet lag went away.
I was reminded of all of this by this post.