And this too, shall pass.....

Holy Mother of God.....



I FINALLY pooped.


Rhena is now a week old, as were the bowels I gratefully just flushed.


I can only imagine, after this nightmarish experience, the hell the poor women who deliver naturally go through. God bless their little souls, and may they have many bottles of softeners on hand.


other than that--- it's been a good week. Been home since late monday afternoon, and am finally getting into the swing of motherhood. Yeah, yeah-- I know. All the moms out there are like... "honey--- you ain't seen NOTHIN yet!"

I appreciate the votes of support from the more experienced reader, but hey.... you were young dumb and stupid once too, so cut me some slack. Besides.... I'm going on very little sleep here, so allow me my disillusioned feelings of confidence!


Anyways--- it's been a week. Already, I can't imagine my life without her. What in hell was I doing before I had this tiny bag of squish and bones???? I honestly can't remember. I mean... I was pooping and sleeping more often, that I DO remember.... but the rest seems a distant second place.

There's lots of things I'm still trying to figure out--- about Rhena, about my own body, about parenting in general, but I have a feeling that will go on as long as I'm breathing. It's pretty overwhelming when you realize you don't know jack-diddly, or are "still pissin' yellow", as my dad would say. In the meantime, I'm trying to focus on small victories.

Today, Rhena making it through a whole week with me and Troy as parents without us breaking her or her moving out was one. The other was pooping. well, the pooping wasn't small by any means, but a victory nonetheless.

I may just go have a cup of raspberry tea to celebrate..... I might have a bag or two left over.

Johnson.... Party of Three

SO. YA WANNA HEAR A STORY????? Pull up a chair, kiddies... this could take a while!!!

So Thursday, I ran around like a madwoman--- running errands, doing furniture shopping.... --- you know... the usual stuff for a girl a week overdue!


anyways--- I talked to a few friends that day/afternoon, so y'all know nothing was going on. Party was set for Saturday--- gonna have folks over to watch the hopkins/de la hoya fight.... all systems seemed fabulous and ready to wait til Tuesday, (my next doc's appointment) so I could get me a libra!


I was watching crappy TV while Troy worked, and started noticing that my stomach was hurting like a mother. I had been crapping a lot that day, so I figured it was just more stomach pains. only thing... they were hitting me every 10 minutes, and only lasting like a minute. WTF... all I could think was this next one was gonna be one helluva poop, ya know?


well, as the night progress, the pain level did too, as did the frequency. by 8pm, I was using the stopwatch... I figured after 2 hours of these pains and not even a fart... it had to be contractions (told you folks I'm slow!)


by the time apprentice came on, they were just over 5 minutes apart, and I found myself breathing through them. I can't remember if I hee'ed or haw'ed, but I needed to breath to get through 60 seconds of pure stomach hell.


We decided this was it, so we headed to the hospital so we could at least be in a room by the time someone was going to be 'fired', and would be able to watch it.


Sure enough, but 10:45 pm, I was in a room, and getting hooked up to the fetal heartbeat and contraction monitor.


couldn't tell you who got fired, cause I was breathing. that was effort enough.




They monitored me for a little over 3 hours. AT this point, the searing pain was coming every 3 minutes. No Ginsu knife could cause the pain I was feeling.... and 3 hours of them sucked. it sucked bad.

(side note--- these people that think that BREATHING through a minute of intense stomach hell must have survived some form of world war or chemical assault that simulates small green soldiers with bayonets stabbing your innards. did I mention the pains sucked? yeah. they do.)


so I did what any rational pain-wimp would do---- I proceeded to throw up on TOP of the contractions. life was just a party, can I tell you???


around 3 or 4am, they held a little conference. oh!!! BTW--- my doctor was (and still is) on vacation, so I have the entire on-call staff up my cooch. nothing says welcome to motherhood like a stranger's arm up your cooch!


My nurse--- bless her heart--- did not want to send me home. she was feeling the pain for me (and smelling my puke, I think) and did not want to have to send me home, as I was already overdue.


Doc said I could go home, or stay and have him break my water and give me an epidural.
now--- I may be slow to the take, but to GO HOME and continue to throw up, feel searing pain, and only be comforted by my cold bathroom floor.... or stay and get the show started.
yeah. no brainer. I would have taken virgo septuplets if it meant I was going to get some drugs!!!!


By 4am, the drug line was in, but I was still needing to breathe through contractions. WTF, dude??? Flirt, flirt, but showing my "I could kill you with my bare hands if you don't make this go away" face, I politely asked if I could get more drugs.


I was now in the inner circle of users. I had my normal Epi drip, plus and extra 10 cc's of juice mixed in. don't know, nor did I ask what my special cocktail was--- all I know is that it worked. Carrie was back in business.

Around 6am they checked me, and I was somewhere ABOUT 3cm, so they started a petocin drip in my IV. Petocin, so I'm told, is supposed to help your cervix dilate.

LONNNNNNNNNNG story (mind you... long PAIN FREE story, cause drugs are through my veins like the red on my blood) long story short... by 4pm, I was still at 6cm.... not good for the amount of petocin (about 10 hours worth) that I had in me.


We decided to go for the cut.


I had to do a shot of some sweet and sour liquid that was supposed to nuetralize stomach acid. No matter how tight I held my nose, I could not even fool myself into thinking it was a lemon drop or dirty Tuaca. I puked again. (that was like #5)


My drug pimp tapped another clear life saving fluid into my IV, and said I should be ok for surgery.


The surgery was weird. I was feeling like I was being crucified. at first I thought it was the drugs talking, but then they strapped my arms down, and I was feeling a little edgy. It seemed very b-Movie ish. like some mad scientist wanted his way with the vixen fat girl. But I digress.


The cut itself was fine--- I fealt nothing thanks to my new best friend in the entire world. At 4:43pm on Friday the 17th, little Rhena Elizabeth was untangled from the cord wrapped around her throat twice, wiped up from the meconium that was smeared on her body, and took her first breath.


un-effing-believable.

a-freaking-mazing!

I stayed on the table (ok... no choice, and inability to move might have played SOME part, but y'all know what I mean!) and Troy went with our baby girl to get her stuff done. During this time I chatted with the surgeons about good bars and restaurants in Reno (or rather... lack thereof) and Seattle. It seemed like the thing to do.


All in all... at least after the drugs took hold... it was a good experience. there's quite a bit to the aftermath, but hell... I'm not working, so you'll hear about it next time we gather round the monitor.


I feel like I should come up with some clever way to end this post, but all that comes to mind is that I'm a mom now. That alone is the coolest thing ever.

Sooner or later.... something's gotta give

well---


here we are again.... another monday. A new week has begun, and still no monsters in the house.

Nothing feels different.... no water breakage, no bleeding, no little hand or leg hanging out of my cooch.... nada. I'm supposed to call the doctor tomorrow, so we'll see what he says. For now I've got nothin, though.


but hey... some of my TV shows are starting their new seasons this week.


I'm debating whether or not I'm going to be the reality junkie I was this past year. Seeing people get fired by Donny Trump, cat fights over mediocre looking men on the Bachelor, girls with unreasonably large boobs eating/slurping/chugging odd animal parts either in whole or recently mashed on Fear Factor.... American Idol is sure to bring a laugh during the auditions.... who wants to be a makeover? swap my wife, and give me a million dollars..... yeah.... REALITY TV. Isn't there an island I should be getting voted off of?


The ironic thing is that the FICTIONAL shows like CSI, NYPD Blue, Third Watch, and the Law and Order shows are closer to the REAL reality than any of these chopped up glimpses into set up life scenerios.


All of the "reality" shows are the same. sure, the people on them are different.... almost. The hot ones, the smart ones, the arrogant without apparent reason ones, the gay ones, the geeky but likeable ones, the antagonizers, the sluts..... oh, and the fat guy. always gotta have a fat guy. ... or person with some visible sign of normalcy that can only be seen as a hollywood defect.


I dunno... maybe if the head brainwashers at the networks labeled it as "you WISH this was Reality" TV..... I might have more respect for the shows. but the truth is I have none. yet... like an accident, I can't stop watching. I WANT the people to eat disgusting stuff on Fear Factor. I WANT the girls to fight over an ugly guy who's hooking up with 20 of their new BEST FRIENDS.... and better yet.... I WANT them to CRY when they're not the one picked for 10 minutes of airtime... I mean attention. I am addicted to other people's failures.


I don't feel bad in saying that, though, cause I know there's a LOT of other people who feel the same way. Why else would the Jerry Springer Show still be running? Jerry-boy just shows a lot more fat and toothless people, while the networks show pretty people screwing up. yeah--- I can alway turn to Jerry when I want to watch people fail AND get an ego boost at the same time.


People have told me I won't get ANY TV time once the monster finally comes out. This may very well be true. I'll certainly miss the mental vacations, but overall... I can't see missing TV as a bad thing.

Somebody had their baby today....

.... too bad it wasn't me.



well, here it is--- September 11th. ...... 2 days past my due date, and still no baby.


If today was today five years ago, I'd take that today to complain how the kid is still in there, how I keep getting bigger, that I'm uncomfortable, etc etc.

But... today being the REAL today, on the anniversary of a date that musters emotions from all walks of life, my state of comfort seems pretty small.

2001 saw tragedy on September 11th, and it is not easily forgotten. Friends of mine as well as strangers shuddered when I first said that my due date was 9/11.... as if to have a child on September 11th was yet another tragedy. I have to admit that for a while, even I was a bit relieved when the ultra sound technician guessitmated my due date to the 9th some 20 weeks ago.


But now--- well, I don't know how I feel. I'm very sad for all of the victims and more importantly, the survivors of the New York and DC and Pennsylvania attacks. There's no questioning that--- to lose a loved one, no matter WHAT the fashion, is extremely difficult. To lose a loved one in a targeted attack where the victim remains innocent must be even worse.

But again... I'm not quite sure how I feel. I personally don't know anyone that lost their life on September 11th... in 2001 or any other year. But the idea of being morose on the anniversary of death is not something I like to do. I ALMOST wish the baby was born today so that there would be something good associated with the 11th of September for me. ....there's still enough hours left in the day, so I suppose it's possible. ---- unlikely, but possible.


But somewhere, a baby is being born right now, and its family is celebrating life. ---- hooray for those born on September 11th... a reminder that LIFE is what it's all about... not death.


Today, I am mindful of all the unknown people whose lives ended, but I am celebrating the lives of the people I DO know--- living, deceased, and those yet to be born.

How NOT to go into Labor

well--- here it is---- Labor Day. well, at least by what the calendar tells me, anyway. I know I'm sure as hell not having a baby today!

So.... in honor of me STILL not having this baby--- I thought I would compile a list of things to do to avoid going into labor.


Ironically, this list is also the same list of things I've been doing to try to coerce my unborn monster out of me.... but I think my direct relationship to the Murphy Lineage and assumed laws might have something to do with that.


but enough of that--- off we go!


1. Raspberry Tea.
ok--- I admit.... I've drank/drunk/whatever enough of the stuff to fill a bath tub. it makes me wonder if I should have just tried that in the beginning.... (filling the tub, that is...) maybe the raspberry soaking INTO my skin would have had a more direct effect on the womb? I do know that not one cup (nor two or three) has had an impact on me going into labor. It HAS upped my TP usage, though---- I pee like a banshee these days.


2. Packing My Suitcase
yeah--- this was probably the killer without me knowing it. I mean... what was I thinking???? getting P R E P A R E D for something in advance????? surely God laughs at me.... I know the suitcase did for a whole week before I finally put it in the car. Now I only hear it when I drive somewhere or go out to the garage to get something from the extra fridge. Thank goodness I'm lazy and don't do much of either these days!

3. Long Walks
well--- I wouldn't say I've been tip-toeing through the tulips or anything, but throughout this pregnancy, I've been on my feet A LOT. the mafia kept me busy all summer, and I have tried to take the stairs when possible, but I think the rumor of moderate exercise or walking to induce labor is some skinny aerobic instructor's way of selling her workout. I've tried the walking... it doesn't work, and it hurts my hips. Come to think of it... I'm actually kind of glad this one didn't work!


4. Shaving
Any woman who has gained a severe amount of weight or increased her body size in a short amount of time can attest that shaving becomes increasingly difficult the bigger she gets. If I wasn't sweating all the time, I swear I'd maintain an average leg hair length of about three inches, but the extra hair isn't so pretty when you're wearing shorts. Therefore... I have kept to my smooth and clean regime... even to the point of using a mirror to catch those hard-to-see areas. - this has been quite difficult, but far better than being caught unexpectedly. I mean--- who really wants to bust out the weedwacker when a head is coming out of you? --- I'd also hate to be the one girl in labor and delivery who's being referred to as 'the wooly mammoth in room 6' by the nursing staff. But... back to the problem with being prepared.... I sure as heck believe my smooth areas have kept things from happening.

5. Astrology and God
anyone that knows me knows I was wanting, for household harmony, to give birth to a Leo. this would have meant that the monster would have had to come early. I've actually (albeit now shamefully) used some of the moments of silent intentions at church to pray for an early arrival. Yes--- not only does this hit up Murphy, but probably pissed God off that I wasn't praying for some starving kids in Africa.... so I now wait in my Purgatory of Being Childless. I've since come to mentally accept that we will have a Virgo, and am now praying for the patience to accept that the monster will come out according to His Will. But--- my God being a Catholic God, I think I have to have at least three weeks in a row of good praying behavior before He'll allow the confinement to end. (yesterday made two, by the way...) I've toyed with idea of going to confession and getting a clean slate, but then I would have to hear the suitcase, so that idea has been bagged.



there's a ton of other things---- like wearing a pantyliner, having one of those plastic liners on the bed and in my car in case my water breaks (don't want to ruin any outfits, mattresses or new car's leather seats with baby juice) starting my leave of absence sooner than necessary from the mafia.... washing and folding all of the baby's clothes so the room is ready for his or her arrival.... they all add up.


The good news is that the doc won't let me go past 41 weeks, and they believe the monster will be no more than 8 pounds. so at least there's an end in sight. or beginning... depending on where you're looking from, I guess.

But enough kavetching. Happy Labor Day, kids.... the calendar one, that is. enjoy the BBQs, drunkeness and three day weekends. I'm going to go enjoy the rest of my non-labor Labor Day as well. I may even eat cake.

Till the next time....