smash cut
My birth daydream:
Katie is sitting on the couch with her feet up, in a stylish set of pajamas. She's sipping a cold glass of sparkling lemonade and reading a book about serenity. Ryan sits next to her, reading a book about manliness. Chicken sleeps peacefully in his room, the sound of rain sweeping him away to sweet dreams of dolphins, swings, and yogurt raisins.
Suddenly, Katie puts a hand on her belly.
Ryan reaches out and covers Katie's hand with his. He looks deeply into her eyes.
She smiles. Nods.
"It's time."
SMASH CUT TO
Katie is sitting up in a hospital bed, early morning light streaming through the window. Her hair looks as though it's been professionally blown-out. Ryan stands next to her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Both gaze down at the peacefully-sleeping baby boy bundled tightly in Katie's arms. The baby wiggles his nose, and smiles in his sleep. A single tear wells in Ryan's eye. Katie's face shines with the sacred, radiant glow of motherhood.
Ignorance is such sweet bliss... too bad I can't beg ignorance anymore, having done this once before.
That smash cut? Yeah it skips aaaaaaalllll the juicy bits. This is just a sampling of the things I'll probably do in the span of that smash cut.
- throw up in the sink
- say fuck at least 4,000 times
- tell Ryan to make the necessary phone calls FASTER
- have to walk down stairs while holding on to my contracting belly (there's this instinct to, like, LIFT the baby up, as if that will make the contraction hurt less? Silly rabbit. NOTHING can make the contraction hurt less. Not even the face of God. Not even red, red wine.)
- curse pot holes. Curse them to burn in holy hell. They make me feel like I'm about to poop a kettlebell.
- ask Ryan where Chicken is. Ask him again. Ask him if Chicken is ok. Ask him again. Cry.
- wait for an elevator
- scare the shit out of a little girl riding up the 5th floor to visit her grandmother
- beg for an epidural as soon as we get to the nurse's station
- sign paperwork
- get "checked." Say fuck 4,000 more times during the span of the check.
- have a catheter put in (on? have a catheter installed? I don't know the verbiage here.)
- get a sweet, sweet epidural
- get told it's time to push
- push
- push some more
- ask if I've pooped on the table yet, get noncommittal answer that tells me the answer is yes
- look at my toes and be grateful I got a pedicure, but then chastise myself for caring about how my toes look at a time like this
- realize my right shin has a mohawk because, you know, shaving your legs at full term is a laughable enterprise. Chastise myself for looking like a heathen at a time like this
- have a moment when the midwife says "we've got to get this going or start talking about other options."
- realize I don't really care how the baby is born as long as he gets out safely. They can drag him out through my nostrils if that's what it takes.
- push out the baby. lay back on the bed, think, "finally."
- wait for the baby to cry, realize how scary silence can be
- hear the baby cry, think, "oh thank God."
- look at the slimy purple squid they plop on my chest, think, "wait... what the fuck?"
- forget to ask them to let the cord pulse. Oh well.
- ask someone what I should do now
- ask Ryan to put a picture on Facebook
- oh right, he needs a name
- fight with Ryan about the name
- decide to decide tomorrow about the name
- send Ryan home to be with the Chicken
- sleep for 2 hours
- try to breast feed
- change baby's diaper
- sleep for 2 hours
- try to breast feed
- change baby's diaper
- remember why we thought Chicken would be an only child for the first 6 months
- wake up for the day at 5 am
- order a breakfast so large the cafeteria lady asks how many forks to bring
- eat all of it
- look at self in the mirror, ask Ryan to bring my makeup bag when he comes
- get the new bathroom procedure walk-through with the nurse
- get told to keep my legs together to facilitate healing
- laugh at the idea of not keeping my legs together
- Ryan arrives, didn't bring my makeup bag
- whatever.
Katie is sitting on the couch with her feet up, in a stylish set of pajamas. She's sipping a cold glass of sparkling lemonade and reading a book about serenity. Ryan sits next to her, reading a book about manliness. Chicken sleeps peacefully in his room, the sound of rain sweeping him away to sweet dreams of dolphins, swings, and yogurt raisins.
Suddenly, Katie puts a hand on her belly.
Ryan reaches out and covers Katie's hand with his. He looks deeply into her eyes.
She smiles. Nods.
"It's time."
SMASH CUT TO
Katie is sitting up in a hospital bed, early morning light streaming through the window. Her hair looks as though it's been professionally blown-out. Ryan stands next to her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Both gaze down at the peacefully-sleeping baby boy bundled tightly in Katie's arms. The baby wiggles his nose, and smiles in his sleep. A single tear wells in Ryan's eye. Katie's face shines with the sacred, radiant glow of motherhood.
___
Ignorance is such sweet bliss... too bad I can't beg ignorance anymore, having done this once before.
That smash cut? Yeah it skips aaaaaaalllll the juicy bits. This is just a sampling of the things I'll probably do in the span of that smash cut.
- throw up in the sink
- say fuck at least 4,000 times
- tell Ryan to make the necessary phone calls FASTER
- have to walk down stairs while holding on to my contracting belly (there's this instinct to, like, LIFT the baby up, as if that will make the contraction hurt less? Silly rabbit. NOTHING can make the contraction hurt less. Not even the face of God. Not even red, red wine.)
- curse pot holes. Curse them to burn in holy hell. They make me feel like I'm about to poop a kettlebell.
- ask Ryan where Chicken is. Ask him again. Ask him if Chicken is ok. Ask him again. Cry.
- wait for an elevator
- scare the shit out of a little girl riding up the 5th floor to visit her grandmother
- beg for an epidural as soon as we get to the nurse's station
- sign paperwork
- get "checked." Say fuck 4,000 more times during the span of the check.
- have a catheter put in (on? have a catheter installed? I don't know the verbiage here.)
- get a sweet, sweet epidural
- get told it's time to push
- push
- push some more
- ask if I've pooped on the table yet, get noncommittal answer that tells me the answer is yes
- look at my toes and be grateful I got a pedicure, but then chastise myself for caring about how my toes look at a time like this
- realize my right shin has a mohawk because, you know, shaving your legs at full term is a laughable enterprise. Chastise myself for looking like a heathen at a time like this
- have a moment when the midwife says "we've got to get this going or start talking about other options."
- realize I don't really care how the baby is born as long as he gets out safely. They can drag him out through my nostrils if that's what it takes.
- push out the baby. lay back on the bed, think, "finally."
- wait for the baby to cry, realize how scary silence can be
- hear the baby cry, think, "oh thank God."
- look at the slimy purple squid they plop on my chest, think, "wait... what the fuck?"
- forget to ask them to let the cord pulse. Oh well.
- ask someone what I should do now
- ask Ryan to put a picture on Facebook
- oh right, he needs a name
- fight with Ryan about the name
- decide to decide tomorrow about the name
- send Ryan home to be with the Chicken
- sleep for 2 hours
- try to breast feed
- change baby's diaper
- sleep for 2 hours
- try to breast feed
- change baby's diaper
- remember why we thought Chicken would be an only child for the first 6 months
- wake up for the day at 5 am
- order a breakfast so large the cafeteria lady asks how many forks to bring
- eat all of it
- look at self in the mirror, ask Ryan to bring my makeup bag when he comes
- get the new bathroom procedure walk-through with the nurse
- get told to keep my legs together to facilitate healing
- laugh at the idea of not keeping my legs together
- Ryan arrives, didn't bring my makeup bag
- whatever.