I am now a mother of two. It's amazing! After only being in our lives for one week, it's already hard to imagine what life was like before Maeve. Now here is the story of how she came into the world on Monday, March 17th, 2014.
I had been dreading the date of March 17th. Not because I'm afraid of leprechauns or have a weird St. Patty's day phobia, but that was the date I was scheduled to be induced. I would be 41 weeks on that day.
Despite the fact that I consider myself a feminist, I can't bring myself to grow a full-on '70s bush. I just can't do it.
I'm sorry. I guess I'm part of "that" generation. The generation that just can't stand pubic hair. Maybe I've been brainwashed by the media? Maybe I'm not a very good feminist? (Question: is body hair a pre-requisite for feminism? Probably not, but it seems like all the good ones have pit hair, at least . . . )
For those of you who really know me, you know that I love to talk about poo and vaginas (as separate topics). So this blog post should come as no surprise.
Funny, I remember after going through this the first time I said, "I don't think I can ever do that again." And like a teenager who has stolen her parent's vodka, here I am, at it again. At least after the pain of labour, you have something sweet and amazing to nurse other than a hangover.
If you've been following my blog, you might remember earlier in my pregnancy I wrote a post about the pros of Midwives vs the pros of Doctors. At the time, I had decided to go with a midwife (with my son, we had an OB) and I was very excited about my decision, because I had heard so many great things about midwives.
Okay, so I’ve taken several short breaks between feedings over the last few days to write out a full and detailed birth story.
For those of you who would rather read the short and sweet version, I’ve provided you with the Cole’s Notes version. This is also a very clever play-on-words (so please applaud me) because my son’s name is Cole. Clever. I know ;)
When Public Grooming Goes Awry
