A Bunch of Brunching Braggers

Today I invited some girls in our ward over for brunch. I love breakfast food, but that it besides the point. It had been a while since I have really hung out with any of these girls (or anybody for that matter), and I wanted to get together at least once before I had this baby and am put firmly out of commission. So we got together, ate pancakes and sticky buns (I didn't make the sticky buns this time, for all who were concerned), and had a jolly ol' time chatting.

It is a well known fact that a group of mothers cannot get together without the conversation eventually leading to labor and delivery. . . and boobs. It just happens and its inevitable. All of the girls, with the exception of me, have had a baby in the last year- two of the girls just had their first babies last month, so conversation was ripe and progressed full speed ahead to labor and delivery stories. It's not like we have never hung out before, not like we haven't heard each other's labor and delivery story before (well, with the two new moms, the stories were both pretty new to us). So why do we rehash each and every detail when we get together? I can see how that would be real, real annoying to people that don't have kids yet. And I can see why people say that when you have a baby, you become boring. It reminds me of third grade when all the kids are showing off every scab and scar that they have ever had in order to impress the other kids. However, since I have had a baby, I haven't tired of hearing or telling birthing stories. Why is that?

What we are essentially doing is sitting around bragging about our experience and we are all bragging about completely different things. We are bragging about how short our labor was; we are bragging about how long our labor lasted; we are bragging about how painful it was; how not painful it was; how big our baby was; how small our baby was; etc, etc. Most of our labors are completely different and yet no matter how it happens, we find a way to brag about it. I participate in this full-heartedly, so I am not condemning this- I really enjoy it. I suppose that's why people are drawn to memoirs, because we like to hear other people's experiences. It helps us examine our own and put them into perspective. And more importantly, I think we like for other's to hear our experiences. That sounds incredibly conceited, but I think the reason we are bragging is because we are truly proud of the experience we went through.

Labor is our battle wound that shows how much we commit ourselves and our bodies to having a kid (not that we really have a choice once we're preggers). It's hard; it's scary; it's wonderful; it's messy. And we are proud of it no matter how it happens, no matter if we pushed for four hours or if our babies foot pushed itself out before we were even out of the waiting area. There is really no sense in trying to one up someone else's delivery story, because we are all inwardly excessively proud of how our own story happens. So it should be told, repeatedly, at every Enrichment dinner, cooking gals, and girls night out, because it feels wonderful to be acknowledged for a truly wonderful event. And plus, every one loves a good story with plenty of blood and gore, right?

So here, blogging world, is my current baby story. I went to the doctor today, pretty excited because they were going to "check" me and I was hoping for a good progress report. First off, I was shocked, shocked when they weighed me and I found out I had lost three pounds in a week. I cannot account for it, because I have been constantly eating. In fact since I made strawberry jam several weeks ago, I have had at least three or four sandwiches a day- that's in between meals! I love them so much I have to pace myself so I don't get indigestion. As soon as I feel a bit of hunger, I rejoice and allow myself a glorious pb and j. When the doc checked me I was shocked, shocked and more shocked (sorry for all the shocks, but I previously put two shocks for the weight thing, and this time I was more shocked than that, hence the extra shocked) when he told me I was dilated to a 5!! And then he tells me I am 100% effaced. I didn't know you could get that far without actually being in labor, but apparently you can and I am. So that just scared the pants off me because that could means I can go at anytime. Mentally, I am not ready to have this baby. I don't even have my bag packed or anything. But maybe this is the wake up call I needed. He even scheduled me for an inducement for next week, because he thinks when I go into labor, the baby is going to come fast and he doesn't want me to, and this is a direct quote, "have the baby in the Fort Pitt Tunnels". Okay. For some reason I am anti being induced. I don't know why. I just have some romantic notion of going into labor the normal way, rushing to the hospital, getting an epidural (that is the most romantic part of the whole thing), and pushing a baby out. But he doesn't think I am even going to make it to the day he has me scheduled for inducement. So why schedule me for inducement then? Some questions we may never know the answer to.

That's my story and I am proud of it. I will tell this story to anyone with a listening ear for at least the next ten years, and I will be unapologetic about it. Because every step of it is a celebration for us, and it should be shared!