Bryker's Birth: A Short Story

Despite the expectation of everyone and my brother that you'd want to join the party early, Cinco de Mayo (aka "d day") came and went and you sat tight in your incubation chamber. Mommy even tried the Ansley trick and got a mani/pedi on your due date (at the same place). But alas, you were stubborn and stayed put.

On Friday (the 6th), I cleaned like a crazywoman in an attempt to get the house at least semi-presentable and ready for your arrival (and maybe also slightly in hopes of inducing labor...). Mia and Zade brought ice cream for the same reason. Just before bed, I told daddy that I thought I may have had a contraction. He responded with "Aw, man. I was really hoping to get some sleep tonight." Though mommy remembers some tossing and turning (as much as can be done with a giant belly) and general restlessness, I didn't fully wake until around 5:30, when you startled me with a strong kick followed closely by a familiar rush. The dam had been breached. Your water was broken. 

It was a bit unbelievable, having waited for so long, to know you'd be here within 24 hours, but I remember saying to your dad that it was "time." He roused fairly easily [which you will learn is a bit of an anomaly with your father] and went to call the g-rents while I took a quick shower. I had a minor 30-second contraction while rinsing off. When I got out, I was anxious to record it with my recently-downloaded full term contraction timer app, being the giant nerd that I am. 

But then I had another one. And according to my calculations, it was only about 3 minutes behind the last. I vaguely remembered something about Dr. Cousins having said to page her when the contractions were 10 minutes apart. Whoops. After a couple more hits just a few minutes from one another, mommy and daddy began to wonder if you could be coming with a quickness. 

Grandpa Mac was on his way to take over Ansley duties and Mia had been notified and would meet us at the hospital. Unfortunately, Granny had to work that day and Bumpa was setting up for a big garage sale as they were in the midst of a major move. No one was in a huge hurry since, clearly, these things take time. I mean mommy's first labor was around 16 hours. Surely this one would take a while as well, right? 

Ha.

As we readied the car, mommy had a painful contraction. They were getting longer and.. was that correct?.. even closer together. I'd tried to page Dr. C before we left, but had a feeling I didn't do it right. Was I supposed to enter the area code? Do I press pound after or just hang up? 'How does a pager even work these days??! Why do people still have pagers? Wouldn't a text be easier?! Pagers are ridiculous and irrelevant and should be summarily rounded up and nuked.' [Thus was my thinking in mid-pain]. I told your father I was pretty sure it was a fail and somehow amongst the commotion he made a successful second attempt.  

We sped down Wendover with the hazard lights full on Nascar-style. Daddy told me later that the odometer was at a pretty constant 80 and he'd run four red lights (and he totally felt like a race car driver). I didn't even notice. It had taken us just under 15 minutes to get to the hospital. In that time, mommy's contractions were so close together and so painful that I couldn't concentrate on anything else. I did my lamaze breaths like a pro - as though they would actually ease the discomfort. But I'm pretty sure they just give you something else to focus on so you don't go blind from the sheer agony of a small human attempting to exit your body. No offense. 

Just before we arrived, I recall feeling the urge to push. When we finally rolled up to admissions, I could barely walk. Thank you God I'd had the sense to pre-register because as soon as we sat down to check in, I clenched my teeth with the pain of yet another contraction. Daddy attempted to impress upon the admissions nurse that time was of the essence here, but I'm not sure she got it until she saw how long the megacramp lasted and we informed her that they were about a minute apart. 

Though we'd begun to fill out paperwork (and by we I mean your dad as I was willing you to stop banging on the escape hatch and literally attempting to hold you in at that point), the nurse ultimately recognized the urgency of our situation and ushered us into an exam room. I almost disrobed with the door open. When they had to wait for the contractions to stop in order to examine mommy, I got a little panicked (don't tell your dad). The nurse announced I was at an 8-9 (10 being "push") and we were off to a birthing suite.

And bless your daddy's heart for being so sweet: he actually had the decency to ask at that moment "I know this may be a stupid question, but.. are we too late for the epidural?" The nurse didn't even answer. I did. That would be a resounding "no."

Just to recap here, we'd gone from nothing to water breaking to contractions three minutes apart and about 30 seconds long, then one minute apart and one minute long in around 30 minutes. It was go-time. I knew this.

Apparently, we should have taken the doc a bit more literally when she said, "Just make sure you have your bag packed and are ready to go, because I have a feeling when this baby comes, he's coming like a bat outta hell." Holy goodness she was right..  though I prefer to rephrase it and say you swooped down like an angel from heaven.

As we rounded the corner, I saw Dr. Cousins rushing in and was slightly comforted (for approximately 5 seconds until the next contraction kicked in). They'd told us it would likely be the other doc on call. But evidently, Dr. C had a patient in the room next door that had been there all night. She went to check on her while they stuck mommy with an IV (just once; that nurse was a champ) and prepped me for (holy crap) delivery. 

When Cousins came back a few short minutes later, she did a quick check and asked if mommy wanted to push. Next thing I knew it was wheels up and 'let's do this.'

And yes, since everyone asks and it's hard to recall even now, it hurt. It hurt like nothing else has hurt in my life and I was seriously terrified. Had I had more time to think about it, that fear might have been paralyzing. 

But it only hurt for 10 seconds. And then it was done. Two and a half pushes (a half because the doc had me stop in the midst of one) and you were here. They laid you on my chest and you looked at me in wonder just like your sister had done. You were so tiny and perfect. I loved you instantly.

But it all happened so fast, I had trouble processing your appearance. Mia didn't even believe your dad when he called her to say you were born until he texted your picture minutes later.

We'd arrived at Women's at 6:06; you were born at 6:14.

(I know, my penchant for extremely lengthy storytelling perhaps made it seem otherwise ;)

Once you were here, the doc had to leave to fix up our neighbor (who'd delivered four minutes before), so mommy still had to endure some contractions until everything was out and officially done. In the meantime, daddy stayed at your side and they weighed, measured and cleaned you up. And the nurse asked me the rest of the questions necessary for admission (Fun fact: yes, we were actually admitted after your birth). 

We couldn't figure out who you looked like, with your little round head and serious tufts of light brown hair(!!!), but we were so proud.  

Bryker Jon Stevenson

6 lbs 15 oz; 20.5" of precious

Once everything was finally said and done and we had a minute to reflect, I realized how close we'd actually come to having you on the side of the highway (hm now that I think about it, dang we totally missed our chance at that Dr. Phil appearance and 15 minutes of fame! Jk). Every new nurse or doctor that came in commented on your speedy entrance. I tried to convince your dad to change your name to flash or bullet, but to no avail. Though apparently deciding on the correct middle name was akin to taking the SAT's because your father came out of the shower to change it twice while I was on the phone about your birth certificate. Daddy kept waffling between Jon and Jonathan - finally deciding on Jon so that your credit won't get confused with his down the road (yes that is the actual reason your middle name is Jon. Sorry).

So apparently you weren't ready to join us until you decided it was time. But man, when you did, you were sure! So thank you for popping out quickly and saving me hours of painful, exhausting labor.  ;)

You really are such a sweet baby. Already quite proficient at eating and pooping. And you slept for like 5 hours after your man-surgery (poor thing), allowing us to sleep, too. Perhaps you felt bad about not allowing mommy enough time for medication, but honestly my recovery has been easier this time as well. Everything seems a little easier. Maybe it's somewhat because we're a little more relaxed and confident we won't break you. And we [kind of] know what we're doing now (apologies to Ansley - sorry sweetie, with you we were flying blind). 

Speaking of Ansley, your big sister absolutely adores you. When they brought her in to see you at the nursery, she kept trying to get through the glass to touch you, and cried when she had to leave to see mommy. She wanted you. When they brought you in to see us, she could not kiss you (i.e. cover you in slobber) enough.

Sadly, she was a bit sick while during our hospital stay, so the grandparents kept her away until we were discharged on Monday. Obviously, mommy needed to do the laundry because your grands couldn't seem to find any clothes for her and she ended up arriving to take you home in this:

In case you can't see that shirt very well, it's a onesie with a picture of a toddler flippin' the flippin' bird! The caption reads "my dad can kick your dad's a$! at fantasy football." It was actually a hand-me-down from your "reject" pile. And it was probably a size 3 months. But I have to admit, it was awfully funny.

Ansley loves to pat your head and stroke your hair, which, clearly we can't blame her for; it is a magnificent 'do. She calls you "Buckee" or "Buckuh," and loves to greet you with a cheery "hey!" even though it will be a long time before you can respond. Her ultimate goal seems to be playing Row Row Row Your Boat and holding you, but don't worry mommy and daddy will run interference till she's old enough to do so safely. For now, she's otherwise content to help mommy toss away dirty diapers and burp you by patting your back.  

A Baby Story (Unabridged...)

You, our precious heavenly gift, were born unto us at 5:16 on August 20th, 2009. You weighed 6 lbs, 15 oz and were 21" long. And I can barely breathe looking at you; you're so captivating. Literally, it takes my breath away how much I adore you. You had me at first blink, and I am hopelessly, utterly, ridiculously devoted. Miracle doesn't even seem to cover it, for some reason, but you truly are miraculous. 

I'm getting ahead of myself, though, so let me start at the beginning and tell you how it all went down ...

A-hem..

It was the middle of darkness. The sticky hot time of year was bearing down hard in the boro (but props to the fan and air conditioning for sustaining the load). Though mercilessly rotund and functionally limited, I'd still been able to get some good sleep most nights and was surprised to find myself up (and fairly coherent) just after 1 am five days before your due date. 

Then I noticed the puddle of wetness beneath my bum and felt a flush of embarrass-/excitement. Or something else. Crap, I wet the bed. Again? (Just kidding, for the record that never happened). Did I forget to turn the fan on and get too hot? Maybe I sneezed in my sleep.. 

Of course after this lovely stream of consciousness, it dawned on me that being pretty pregnant + less than a week from d-day might-could just equal: H20 break (duh, mommy)!

I snuck quietly from the sheets and stole to the bathroom to assess the situation. I wasn't about to disturb daddy and risk the crazy eyes for a false alarm. Certainty was a must. Upon further inspection, the river was still intermittently draining [weirdest thing ever. thus far] and I knew my hypothesis to be correct. I was going to have a baby. ;)   

{sidenote: Seriously, though, I do not understand how those women on the Discovery channel go all the way through pregnancy, wind up at the hospital in labor and then claim to have had NO IDEA they were pregnant. Did you not feel kicking and junk going on in there? I mean my baby was practicing for Cirque Du Soleil. Not to mention the absence of your dot and a myriad of other symptoms. But maybe I'm the ignorant one? I do suppose there could be some medical explanation.. Apologies for the tirade.} 
 
Anywho, the next step was alerting totally snuggled up, firmly passed out, soundly-sleeping daddy, which I liken to awakening an opossum playing dead. Or maybe actually dead for like 2 minutes. This scenario generally involves a good amount of initial jiggling and patting and tender attempts to inveigle him away from the arms of slumber, but inevitably ends with a startling shout and Jon jolting abruptly upright (though still not fully awake and therefore prone to strange bouts of sleeptalking and discombobulation. More on that in later posts). Needless to say, I was stricken with terror.

…Sorry, that was kind of dramatic. Amidst my trepidation, I actually realized that I could first attempt to rouse the beast by peeking round the corner and calling his name (in my mind at pitch-black-in-the-morning this was safe, because should he happen to shoot the Medusa-like crazy eyes my way, I could practice the duck and cover in a timely fashion). To my surprise, he stirred at only the second call, and when he heard "I think my water just broke," daddy responded sleepily "what? …she's coming??!" and was up in a heartbeat.

As we hopped about dizzily and celebrated your impending arrival, we tried to think back to our "training." Of course, no one tells you that as soon as you get clued in that your little one is on their way, you promptly forget everything you learned in birthing class and second-guess even tiny details … or big stuff. 

All I kept thinking about were the stories I'd heard and voices echoing "I went to the hospital and they sent me home," and "a common first labor is around 20 hours." I'm sure they clearly stated that water breaking = hospital visit in our class, but apparently we required positive confirmation. Daddy deferred to me to call the hospital and feel like a total doofus when they corroborated our instinct that yes—that particular action did, in fact, warrant a visit. When our heads cleared enough to think a little, we reaffirmed via babyclass literature that you would be summoned forth in under 24 hours (due to the still-random still-drizzle between my legs). Woo-woo!!

Dad set forth to notify the grandparents while I waddled about making sure we were thoroughly packed. My mom was the first call. 

After a few seconds I heard him leaving a message that went something like this "Hi mom, it's 2:05am and I'm calling to tell you that your daughter's water broke and we're heading to the hospital, but obviously you are not answering your phone, so … you fail."

And then another, similar message to granny Mac: "Mom, it's Jon. McKenzie's water just broke; Ansley is coming, and you're not answering. This is your first test as a grandparent and you have failed. Enjoy your sleep."

Hmmn, this was getting fun. I waited for Bumpa's answering machine to pick up next and heard yet another scolding (daddy was losing patience) "Dad, you are the third grandparent that has not answered your phone, and your daughter is in labor. You fail." 

Uncle Bronson was the first to answer. Of course, when he asked if he should notify the household I got nervous and told him to let your Bumpa sleep; knowing that it would probably be a good many hours before you actually arrived. By that time, though, the other failed grandparents were beginning to call back all aflutter. News had spread, and they were ready. 

Me? Not so much. 

I was just sure you'd be late. In fact, I'd been coasting along under the assumption that you probably wouldn't want to join the party until a good week after you were due (sometime around my birthday). After all, it's just the Stevenson way. But here you were, knocking at the door, and dropping (not-so-)subtle hints that we'd better get ready with a quickness.

Naturally, that didn't stop us from piddling our way to Women's Hospital though. Granny and aunt Jenna almost beat us there (I'm going to call it a combination of their enthusiasm and our unpunctuality). Under the cover of blackness, we managed to locate the correct entrance after 2 unsuccessful tries and scurry to the front desk. The world seemed still. 

Mommy had been on the ball and checked us in online, yet they had us sign enough paperwork to make me even shakier than I was (nerves and hunger; not a good combo, in case you were wondering). There was a short exam/question&answer session, and it was determined that we be admitted. Holy crap about sums up my thought process at that moment. 

Seriously, though, I was incredibly excited (slash scared) and could barely stand the anticipation as we were escorted to our suite. We settled in just after 3:30am. Mia, Granny Mac and Aunt Jenna had the first shift (followed closely by Bumpa and Grandpa Mac). 

As you'll learn if and when you ever have a kid, there's a lot of preparation and waiting around before any of the real action starts. 

The first order of business was hooking mommy up to a multitude of scary, beeping machinery all Frankenstein-style. They adjusted and readjusted the fetal heart monitor to get a satisfactory read on the goods inside (i.e. you). And mommy's greatest immortal enemy, the IV, was next. This evil device is basically a tube (inserted with a needle the size of my cankle, btw) that delivers medicine and various other fluids to your body via the forearm. I tried to be strong, but when the nurse announced that the first try was in vain [pun intended, because it was definitely NOT in the vein…], I could have passed out. Or punched her, if my arm wasn't wounded by her incompetence. At least she was nice. FYI, aside from the 45 minutes I'll discuss later (and only because that was like a constant hurt), this was the most painful part of your birth. Bless you, little one. After the nurse left, Granny Mac (who witnessed the IV altercation), said it took everything she had not to step in and offer to do it herself because "that girl was doing it wrong." Thanks for having my back, G-Mac. 

The birthing suites, though nice enough, have a definite lack of amenities (save the softcore educational porn channel with instructions on breastfeeding and how not to shake your baby repeating every 15 minutes). I would advise bringing a laptop and music for alternate entertainment, but we were so thrilled about your nearing arrival I think we just talked to pass the time. Several hours flew by, and they kept pointing out some alleged contractions on the screen, which were apparently minute enough that I didn't feel them. Yesss. 

When things weren't hastening by morning, they started a drip of Pitocin (labor speeder-upper). Mommy had a most awesome labor & delivery nurse named Lisa, who asked all about you and how daddy and I met. I'm not sure if this was part of her training, but strangely I did feel less awkward with her having to be all up in my business [if that's possible] since she seemed genuinely interested in the other stuff. 

As the time droned on, we spotted larger and more frequent contractions on the screen, and they kept upping the medicine to hurry you on your way (daddy insisted it was because Dr. Cousins' shift ended at 5). I was happy to munch on the excellent soft ice and listen to my babytime playlist while texting back and forth with your aunts and family (after daddy had sent the initial "we're in labor!" text). 

Funnily enough, your godmother Aunt Heidi did not believe daddy when he sent that first message, as he had cried wolf before and tried to pretend we were in labor on our way to your last baby shower. Obviously, when Heidi confirmed it through me, she was much more enthusiastic. I really should have gone for that unlimited text plan if just for the month of August..

Adrenaline still pumping and still crazy-hungry, mommy started to feel some contractions in the early afternoon. Fortunately they were tolerably docile and felt more like pressure than pain. Nurse Lisa checked it out and passed along the news that Dr. Cousins said I could have the epidural "whenever I felt like it" after a certain point. I felt like I should wait at least until it hurt a little, and opted to take the hit a couple hours later. 

The epidural was not remotely what I expected. Partially because it barely hurt (compared to that IV? pshhh), and partially because of the remarkably cool anesthesiologist, Dr. Jackson. When all 6 foot 7 inches of Dr. J walked in and started joking with us, mommy thought "Crap, there's no way he can be good at this. He's far too jovial." But the good doc knew exactly what it felt like each step of the way and explained things extremely well (like he was reading my mind..). He'd clearly done this before. When the tube was in, he even let Jon push the last bit through and said "Congratulations you're a doctor now! You'll even get a certificate in the mail. But it will look strangely like a bill…" Hah.

There was one spot on my side that didn't seem to be affected by the 'dural, where mommy could feel the more frequent contractions, but they turned me on my side (in a manner disturbingly similar to moving a 2-ton whale, what with the numb legs and such) and it disappeared. 

After a few more rounds of contraction-watching and progress checks, word was we were getting close. In the meantime, mommy thought she'd have some chicken broth and a couple orange popsicles for lunch. The liquid diet was killing me. Interestingly, though, no one had thought to warn me that lots of meds, little solids and sudden movements (you know like sitting up) can lead to the expulsion of such orange-tinted liquids. I was assured that pukage was totally normal, but that didn't make it any more dignified.

Eventually, we learned that you were twisted sideways—and I guess they generally prefer up-facing babies for delivery, so mommy was encouraged to prop myself edgewise in hopes of persuading you to start the spin-cycle. Incidentally, the act of turning me on my side seemed to turn off the effects of the epidural (and instantaneously bring the pain). Contractions then were maybe two minutes (that felt like two seconds) apart. And they made my mommies clear the room, leaving Jon and I alone to cope. 

Those videos aren't lying, it hurts something fierce when you can feel it (how do women who have natural births DO that?); so while I was Lamaze-ing it up they called in the anesthesiologist for a bolus (quick, large dose of medicine) that was supposed to work in 15 minutes. Clearly, they tell you 15 minutes so you don't quit from despair, though, because it didn't start working until Dr. Cousins came in and turned me upright (almost 45 minutes later). Upon further inspection, Dr. C explained that maybe it had hurt because I was ready to push. What?! So where were you 45 minutes ago, doc? 

{On another side note, uncle B had gone in to work that day and was not permitted to leave early "just because [his sister was] having a baby." "She'll have more kids," his boss had said. Umm.. dude. Heartless much? So B was still slaving away on the other side of town at this point in time} 

Lisa psyched us up and instructed mommy on the best pushing techniques. I was essentially folded in half, but Daddy held my leg and hand and was absolutely excellent with the encouragement. By the time we figured out that all the real action happens only during contractions (of which I was again comfortably unaware), I was laughing at the irony. Naturally, the epidural had kicked back in. We watched the monitor for a good hour and a half with little progress, since I couldn't feel much to push but was doing it anyway. At least we were getting somewhere. They had asked a few times if I wanted a mirror, but mommy [like many people who have not yet had a child] was a bit horrified by the idea of watching… everything. Daddy had agreed that he too would rather not risk a glance, and was perched solidly at my side. That is until nurse Lisa commented on your light blonde hair color.

All hesitation left daddy's face and curiosity got the better of him. From that moment on, he was captivated. He said later "I really didn't think I wanted to look, but I'm so glad I did because it was the most amazing and incredible thing I have ever seen." Ok, so perhaps if we are blessed with any siblings for you, I'll consider that mirror.

You faked us out with a couple semi-appearances before nurse Lisa exclaimed "Ok! Stop pushing!!" (which was odd, since we'd been doing this for 2 1/2 hours). But lo and behold, it was go-time. 

Dr. Cousins appeared for the last 4 or so contractions, did her thing, and you were out and on my chest in all your long pink perfectness; looking at the world with wide, perceptive eyes (and not even crying!). I could not believe that you were growing inside me for 9 months, and now you were there. It was magical and surreal and so many things I can't describe. Like baby intoxication. I'm crying just typing about it! I kept trying to memorize exactly how it felt, and all I could think was 'is she really mine?' 

Like I said, you didn't even shed a tear—just emitted a couple tiny wails to announce your presence. Daddy, however, was bawling and followed you immediately to the station for cleaning. He stood over you—teardrops streaming on your makeshift crib—and offered sweet words of comfort, saying "I'm here baby girl. I'm not going anywhere. I love you already!" He was so proud he could barely wait to show you off to the rest of the family in the nursery. 

When the commotion calmed a smidge, they whisked you off to meet your public and mommy was left to recover (well, as much as anyone can in an hour or so). 

After you birth a child, I guess they pretty much figure you should be rewarded with your choice of food—especially after withholding it from you for like ever, so they offer up any meal you can think of. For some reason, grilled cheese sounded like perfection right then (I know, amazing I didn't even consider the filet ;), so that's what mommy ordered just before Bumpa walked in. 

He started toward me with tears on his cheeks. "She's beautiful," he said. 

But mommy must have looked a little worse for the wear, because he seemed shaken and afraid to approach. 

"I'm fine!" I insisted, "Dad, I promise.. I'm ok!" I didn't realize how overwhelming it must have been for him to see his little girl after having a little girl of her own.

We'll show you the video, but your triumphant entrance and meeting of the family was, in essence, a blur of camera flashes, "awwww!"s and happy sobbing. Luckily, you waited just long enough that Uncle Bronson was able to be there for your big moment.  :)

I downed the toasty cheese in 1.2 seconds and was on the verge of sleep when the cavalry arrived. Mia asked what I'd eaten and said "oh my gosh I just said before Jon came to get us that I had a strange craving for grilled cheese." Freaky. 

The next couple days were filled with tons of visitors (including all your aunts and immediate family). We both had to get the hang of feeding, changing and burping. I don't think I slept a wink on night one, anticipating your hunger and affirming (then reaffirming) your itty bitty breaths.

On day two, you were lying quietly in daddy's adoring arms when you choked and stopped breathing without warning. I was petrified, but within 5 seconds of us hitting that panic button, a nurse was in the room flipping you over and slamming your back to clear the obstruction. You expelled it on about the second whack (thank goodness, because mommy was about to black out from the anxiety of witnessing this process). 

And then we had an ant infiltration and had to change rooms, which I know was great fun for your fans as they tried to navigate the halls to find us. ;)  

Daddy was very protective of you from the beginning, making sure everything was done correctly. He helped anywhere he was needed, from b-feeding to swaddling & changing diapers. He was made for this. And you should know he did it all despite the fact that hospitals do not appear to hold fathers in very high regard and cannot be bothered to feed them (while mommies are served a hearty breakfast, lunch and dinner; which you also enjoyed).

The fatigue caught up to us on the second day, but it was mixed with the excitement of your newness (and we just had a hard time putting you down 'cause you were so darn sweet!). Though we wanted to throw a party with every visitor, it was physically impossible. We were lookin' pretty rough.  

When news came that we could blow the joint in the morning once we were cleared, daddy and I rejoiced. Then we sat around and waited for forever to check out. You should have seen the cart full of stuff we were trailing. Oh wait, I'm sure I have a picture.  :)

Daddy had been feeling ill that last day, and decided to wear a mask around you just in case. I found this quite comical, especially in our "leaving the hospital" pictures. 

Once we were loaded up (with me in the back seat to watch you breathe) we mustered our courage and Daddy drove the slowest he has ever gone down Wendover to bring you home. Mia and the doggies were waiting to greet you and record the homecoming. And I know everyone says that having your child is the best moment of your life, but bringing her home is up there, too. 

Now you're stuck with us, little A. We're together for good … and I can't imagine a more wonderful gift. 

My sunshine. My blessing. My darling baby girl. I promise you I will love you with every fiber of my being for as long as I am able. Do you think forever is enough? ♥

Let's Do This. I think...

{Week 38, give or take}

Am now convinced that women become uncomfortable in the final month of pregnancy in order to prepare them for actual birth.

I mean, think about it. You're scared of the unknown and have no idea what to expect; if you went into labor at that point it could be seriously bad for your psyche. But just as everyone says it will, at some point in the last couple weeks, your attitude changes and you think "Ok I'm just ready to meet him/her and become a mommy! And maybe have my body back to myself..."

It's like ... baby voodoo. How do they do that?

*Post- post revision: So I might have had some unrealistic expectations about this "having your body back to yourself" thing. If you choose (and are able) to feed via the magic milk, you might have to tack another 8-12 months or so on to those 9 months...

Totally worth it, though, sweetie.  Totally worth it.  :)