Saturday, May 7, 2011
So I was thinking of things the kids have given me over the years, and my thoughts naturally gravitated toward hemorrhoids. And wandered from there to being in labor and pushing hard and, well, a little story.
Twelve years ago I gave birth to Jake, with Tom and my sister by my side. After 3 botched and 1 successful (thank you, God!) epidurals, I had a healthy baby and an important question for my sister's ears only.
"Uh, did I poop during labor?"
She hesitated. Not a good sign.
"Well, you did, but it was just about the size of a Chihuahua."
I threw my head back on the pillow in abject humiliation. All I could picture was the Taco Bell dog. Barely able to peer over my engorged melon-sized breasts, I held my hands about 12 inches apart and part whispered, part hissed..."Dear Lord! Are you saying I pooped the size of a Chihuahua? That's bigger than the baby!"
My sister laughed at my labor-addled brain and said,
"No! NOOOOOO! You pooped a tiny bit, about what a chihuahua would do!"
Thank you Jesus.
And thank you, kids, for EVERYTHING you've given me these past 12 years.
Except the hemorrhoids.