I Ejected A Human From My Insides!

I ejected a human being from my insides 13 days ago.

We went to the hospital because I was concerned about bleeding.

Apparently, I was dilating, causing blood and they sent me home at one centimetre.  They had offered me drugs for the pain, but I was convinced that I could breathe through everything, as I was set on a drug-free, natural birth. 

We were back at 2 am because I could NOT handle the pain anymore. I could barely stand up to put my shoes on, let alone hop up in the truck without vocalizing the contractions. And again, because I had been there so many times (typed with much sarcasm), the nurses took their sweet ass time, while I was groaning loudly in the little room..

A half hour later, someone finally came in to check how far I was and they started scrambling. I was 6 cm dilated.

Now, I have an extreme phobia to needles.
They came in with an IV and some guy saying they needed to do bloodwork.

I lost it.

I could not breathe anymore.

I was scared.

I tensed up and everything started to hurt more.

And THEN they came in with the gas.. I didn’t get a choice in anything. Drug-free went out the window.. They shoved the gas mask on my face to make me breathe slower. The room got brighter, my voice sounded lower…

 I was stoned, straight out. 

 Before, I figured everything would be weird with anyone but my boyfriend in the room but because of the inherent need for needles, we called my dad and his wife. They showed up just in time for the biggest needle of them all. 

Before they made it to the hospital, the nurses were politely getting me higher and higher and decided to have me walk to the delivery room. I don’t know how that seemed like a good idea when I couldn’t walk from the wheel chair we used to get there to the bed.. But alas, we made it into the delivery room and I crawled onto the bed.. They asked me if I wanted an epidural and I thought, “Screw it, drug free is out the window anyways, may as well take everything they’ve got.” Meanwhile, my poor boyfriend was trying to stick the guns I made him hold and said no epidural. He also asked if we could wait for my parents to show, but even as high as I was, I told him if I wanted it we couldn`t wait.
So we waited for the anaesthesiologist, luckily, my parents showed first. And when he arrived EVERYONE had their hands on me. He hit a nerve in my back and I jolted. Instantly there was a migraine, and he had to move everything and do it again. They had me lay down on my back and tried having me stay there.

My step-mom was holding the cloth over my eyes, my boyfriend was trying to hold my hand on the right side, my dad was stroking my hair and on the left side the nurse was death gripping my arm and my leg. They placed a mask on my face with the elastics so no one had to hold it. I couldn`t tell you if it was oxygen or the stuff that got me stoned..

 Getting claustrophobic, I moved the mask to my forehead, and that was then holding my cloth up. Eventually, someone said it was useless pumping the gas (wahtever it was) into my forehead and moved the mask, causing the cloth to fall.

The nurse to my left kept telling me to push three times during contractions and I couldn’t get her to shut up. I just nodded and said “mhm.” My dad tried telling me just to push, and it would be done.

“You get knocked up and then you can tell me what to do,” was my response. Somewhere in the midst of everything, I’d told my boyfriend that if he ever tried touching me again he was dead. I had also said that “these contractions are dicks, you think you’re good and then it’s there.” Twenty minutes after the anaesthesiologist had given me the first needle and the wonderful migraine that I am still paying for, he came back for the second part of the epidural. He stood there for a minute and turned around. It was too late.. I had already been pushing and the baby was almost out. During contractions, I was throwing up in my mouth. 

Choking on vomit, it’s hard to keep pushing. They told me just to let it go, because it had gone on for a while. I opened my mouth and tried not to choke it down. The first contraction that came with that I projectile vomited right into my doctor’s mouth.  My dad was trying to stifle his laughter and said that vomit made him sick, and turned around for a snicker. I saw my doctor rush to the sink and heave a couple of times and spit before she came charging back and got right in there to “help” me. 

She placed her fingers inside of my vagina and tried to help stretch my perineum and labia to prevent tears. I shrieked louder every time she touched me. I was already very sensitive, the epidural hadn’t kicked in at ALL and there was no numbing going on. At all.

 I looked down and saw the baby’s head coming out of me. That’s not exactly an image I can wipe away from my retinas. “Ew” was all I could say… I kept hearing people saying “Do it for the baby, you are that much closer to being a mom.” All I could do is say, “Fuck.”

 With the final pushes they put the baby on top of me. I looked down, said, “Gross.” And looked away.  My boyfriend didn’t want to cut the cord. He considered it for a moment but after he said no my dad was already getting in there to do it, so he backed off.

The doctor kept putting her hand in the way and my dad is blind in one eye. The cutting of the cord was successful, no hands were sliced. 

So, now they came to give me stitches, and I lost feeling in my right leg, thanks to the half-ass, late epidural I could have gone without.

They kept telling me it’s not that bad, I won’t feel it, I didn’t tear that badly. So, obviously, I asked if we could skip the stitches.
I was told no. I won’t feel a thing. They will freeze it. I felt the freezing needle go in..  The freezing didn’t seem to take effect and I felt every stitch go through, and the thread being pulled through my skin. 

When they told me that we had a girl, as we left the gender as a surprise. I said `Well I guess you got your wish.` (My boyfriend was wanting a baby girl.) This phrase came out a lot more snide than I had intended. But I was stoned. And really tired.. And sore everywhere.

We hung out in the delivery room for a couple of hours, because I was supposed to bathe and pee and all of that wonderful jazz. But thanks to my leg, I couldn`t get there. Eventually, I was wheeled into the bathroom by the nurse and then wheeled to the mother-baby ward. Baby daddy in tow, carrying all of our stuff.

Somewhere during the delivery, I remember my dad promising me French fries.

Yes, he did hold up on that. I got French fries and some nuggets when they came to visit.

The rest of my stay wasn`t that exciting, so we won`t go there.

BUT there are highlights!

-My little brother came up for a visit. He offered me a Coke as a trade to hold the baby. And I proudly handed her off for the small profit.
-My grandparents came to see me and my Nana had spent a few hours with me, fawning over her first great grandbaby. And my Papa didn`t want to hold her. She was much too small for his liking and figured he would break her.
-They tried giving me MORE bloodwork when I was alone. Because they thought I was pale.. I have an iron deficiency, I hadn`t slept in two days, hadn`t eaten very much, and just had a baby. I`m always pale.. Short story shorter- I didn`t get the bloodwork done.
-My boyfriend ate most of my hospital food for me, so they didn`t make me stay longer. He brought me other food instead, often accompanied my a little jug of chocolate milk. My parents even brought me a little cooler with veggies in it to snack on.
-My first meal after giving birth was McDonald`s. Referencing the French fries that I was promised, that I DID recceive.
-Everytime they poked the baby for bloodwork and put her back in her bassinet, I snatched her out and cuddled her, because that`s got to be traumatizing for her if it is for me.
-When dad came into my room on the mother-baby ward, he told me that he`d gone to the doctor and unfortunately, he can`t get pregnant. (I was confused, but he was referencing my comment during the delivery about shutting up and trying it.)

Without further ado, here is the baby with my fur baby. Yes, they get along wonderfully.

Lennox Orianna was born at 5.6 lbs, 18.1`` long, and with a full head of hair on November 10, 2013.
4:43AM
And that`s how I push out babies.

-Shelynn

**This isn`t in any specific order. But almost the order that I remember it being in.** 

Halloween Fun vs. Racism

 I was Pocahontas when I was six. She was my favorite princess. I didn't feel right NOT painting my face darker than it is.. I was the whitest kid ever. I wasn't being racist... Another year I was Missy Elliott, I believe I was 10 or 11. It's not always people making fun of things and people need to lighten the hell up. Some people dress up in these ways to feel closer to people or characters that they love. If I can paint myself green or blue, why not a natural looking change in my skin colour? It is Halloween. A time to have fun and dress up as someone other than yourself. Some people take the chance to just be rude and ignorant. Let them, they will pay their dues eventually. For the others just having fun and meaning no harm? Leave them alone..

^ The above was my reply to a Facebook post that showed up on my page from College Humor, obviously just trying to be funny, as pictured below. I am, if you haven't caught on in the blue colouring, and some other individual is in the green. If you can't see the photo he said :" You don't get to decide whether you were being racist."    The definition of racism is to find a race superior another. In my opinion, I do get to decide whether or not I am being racist.

I had decided to comment about my costumes and skintone changes after reading the below comment (I have typed out the part that caught my eye..)

"Frankly I'm baffled by the number of people that want to justify wearing 'black face'. Black face, red face, white face, none of them are really acceptable. Go as a character, but don't change your skin tone. You're reducing that person's ethnicity to their color, which is disrespectful. And apparently, none of you seem to know the history of black face. Cultures are not friggin costumes."

Where I agree that cultures aren't costumes why can't someone paint their face? If red face isn't acceptable, the devils are being racist. Black face and red face put together means that Darth Maul is out. You can't be a coal miner. You can't be a pumpkin, because, God forbid you paint your face orange. No, don't paint your face white to be a ghost, a skull, or a vampire. Don't paint your face yellow, you might offend a Simpson! While we're at it, why aren't we thinking about the feelings of people who do cross dress daily? Guys, stop putting your dresses on on Hallowe'en, that's rude.

Maybe I'm just being hormonal but this is frustrating me because people are just being so uptight! Hallowe'en is Hallowe'en! There ARE costumes that take it too far, and the people that choose to wear them will get what is coming to them. Face paint and makeup is my favorite part about Hallowe'en, so if I can't paint my face black to wear under my hood so you can't see it in the shadows, if I can't paint my face blue to match my crayon hat, it takes a lot of the fun out of it. 

Society sucks, yeah. But this, on top of feminist extremists, and I'm way to tired to think of anything else right now goes to show that no one REALLY wants equality, they're searching for superiority. The one's that do don't get as much "air time" because people are searching from extremes..

In closing, before I ask the question I've been holding back: Just because you are male, female, black, white, tan, yellow, green, or born with a tail does not make you anymore entitled to your opinion than others and it doesn't make everyone else racist. If I can handle "harmless short jokes" I feel like others can loosen up too..

What are your thoughts on the topic today? Where do you draw your lines?

What's With The Blog Title?!

Olive A Sudden! All of a sudden... I thought it was punny.
For those of you unfortunate enough to not know who Olive is, and the reason I find this name so clever and wonderful... Olive is my companion. 

Her first day with us!

She is my cuddle buddy. 

She is my protector. 

She is my puppy.

My photo galleries are full of her sweet little face and videos of her antics. Unfortunately, I don't have such an adorable little ragamuffin to snuggle with, but a fairly boisterous, high energy, yellow dog that needs her way.

Some people say that pets have no personality.. Well then, I invite you to spend a week with my little girl.

She needs to snuggle. She sings with me sometimes. She escorts me to the washroom. She thinks I'm stupid.. You can tell when I wiggle around in the kitchen and she gives me that arched eyebrow thing that dogs do, because she doesn't really have eyebrows. And when she tries to sneak things she knows that she shouldn't have. I also believe that Miss Olive thinks that she is part cat. She has developed a liking to the back of the couch. This is where she will sit and watch the neighbours. And at night she pushes me out of the way so she can have what was supposed to be my side of the bed..

Olive a sudden she's literally changed things and just in time for my life to be flip turned upside down. And I'd like to take a minute, just sit right the--Okay, I'll stop..

I'm crazy about her. With a small emphasis on "crazy." Thus, the blog name is so good for me.

In closing, as I obviously wasn't quite sure what to write about tonight, what would you want to read from my basketcase of a brain?

Cheers!