Lactation Nazi's

It's been a while since I've written one of these; turns out having a newborn is a lot of work. Who knew? Good thing I waited until I was 31 to have a baby, honestly I don't know how teenagers do it. By "It" I mean sex. I really want to know how teenagers are doing it these days. Has it changed? Are they better at it because of the Internet?
Anyhow, I last left off with a story about the actual birth of Dexter. After that, it was two nights in the hospital full of screaming babies and lectures from lactation consultants a.k.a lactation nazi's. I mean, I understand that they're just there to help new mother's (me) figure out how to get another human being to suckle on my nipple for the sake of food, rather than pleasure but honestly, lay off lady. I finally decided not to let them worry me when I went to this breastfeeding class on day 2 of the hospital stay and the lactation nazi running the class referred to myself and my baby as "Youse". Are you effing kidding me. I'm supposed to take advice from a person who thinks that the Youse is a word. Maybe I would consider taking her advice if I was asking her whether or not I should go and see a Poison concert or what colour to paint my double wide trailer, but anything else, she can eff off.
The other weird thing about this nazi was that although she didn't have a speech impediment, she pronounced the word "if" , as "ith". It was as though she had a speech impediment for just that word. Bottom line, she was an idiot and I eventually figured out how to breastfeed. Speaking of which, was anyone else aware of how much it would hurt in the beginning because I didn't have a clue. I guess with my pregnant glow and euphoria of having a baby, I didn't really realize that having your nipple pulled to the back of another human's throat (baby or not) is kind of uncomfortable. Never mind the fact that your nips have to adjust to the whole situation so be ready for blisters, bleeding and general sexiness. Oh ya, and how about the double breastpump? HILARIOUS! The lactation nazi made me pump my gorgeous boobies after every time I fed him to increase the flow of lava and I couldn't believe how ridiculous the pump is! Now I use it all the time but the first time you throw those fun bags into the pump, your boobs have definitely transitioned from titties to teats. When I was on a dairy farm in New Zealand, they had the EXACT same contraptions for the heffers to get their milk. I made sure to Moo every time the nazi hooked me up to it. To be honest, the joke got old after I did it twice but I kept doing it because sometimes a joke gets funny again just because you refuse to let it die. Look at Rodney Dangerfields career.
Anyhow, we brought him home and it's now been 6 weeks since he was forceped out of my amazing uterus and things are pretty good. I mean, as good as they can be really. He eats, he sleeps (kind of), he pees and poops and now he's kind of smiling a bit which is the best. I have to go for my 6 week check up which I'm not looking forward to. Honestly, after 22 hours of having roughly 14 different pairs of hands up me, I never want another doctor near my vajay ever again, but I guess I have no choice. The good news is sex is just around the corner which is a good thing. I've had some freaky sex dreams lately, the latest one involved this old lady cashier from The Metro. She wears about 500 buttons on her vest, most of them cats.
Stay tuned for more anecdotes of the first year of motherhood, told by moi.
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It Taint What It Used To Be : Part Deux

Hey. So this is the second part of the labour and delivery blog because some weird and funny stuff happened and seeing how I'm missing that part of the brain that registers embarrassment, I'm going to share these incidents with all of you and the pedo's that accidentally stumble upon this blog.
As I mentioned in part one, labour was roughly 22 hours. Now for someone who thinks a simple fart is funnier than anything in the world, you would think that pooping etc during delivery wouldn't bother me. Wrong. It was oddly my biggest fear. I mean really, I may not be a lady but I"m not an animal and having a cute, bubbly 24 year old nurse have to wipe my bum as I'm crying to get this baby out, is even just a bit much for me. Regardless, they don't embellish or even mention that you're going to crap yourself in What to Expect When Expecting. So I'm here to tell those of you who have yet to give birth; you're going to shit yourself. That's what to expect when expecting.
Anyhow, now that we've gotten that out of the way I'm thinking "well, there's really nothing left to hide. Let's just push this baby out once and for all." Unfortunately it wasn't that simple. Things start getting frantic and there's a bunch of people in my room as Mt.Sinai is a teaching hospital. I would like to think that at least 5 sets of future OBGYN's hands have rooted around inside of me. I like to do what I can for education.
The doctor comes in and it's go time. I had requested Heathcliff Huxtable but he was busy eating a hogy, chips and grape soda because Claire was out of town.
So the doctor says to us, "It's either the forceps or the vacuum". Will answers , "Well what do you think?" doctor responds, "Neither are very pretty."
Great.
So he goes for the forceps. My friend Noelle said it best when she described forceps as silver hockey sticks. They're definitely tong like in nature, but tongs you would be using if you were going to bbq a brontesaurus. Anyhow, in they go, they flip the baby around and out they come. I thought they had pulled the baby out at this point and am asking "What is it? what is it?" The doctor tells me, "I have to go back in." Awesome.
Back come the brontasaurus tongs and after some aggressive pushing and pulling out comes our cute little boy. There are tears and laughter and all that stuff you imagine as they put him on me and then weigh him and get him all wrapped up. Will takes him out to meet my brother Marc, my parents, Tina and Lara and our brother-in-law David. So now I'm still stuck in the stirrups and the doctor proceeds to do some serious sewing. There was as episiotomy involved and if you don't know what it is, you can Google it but I suggest you don't Google any images otherwise your eyes might fall out of your head.
Anyhow, lets assume you know what it is and carry on.
This is when things get pretty funny. The doctor's head is pretty much at eye level with my va-jay jay and ass as he's doing some genital quilting. He's also showing a student what he's doing and explaining the whole process. Again, let's take a minute to thank God for epidural. The next thing you know, a sound escapes; a long, drawn out , high-pitched kind of sound. Imagine slowly letting the air out of a balloon. Yup, that kind of sound. Some call it a toot, others a fluff, I prefer ol' faithful... fart. Without any control of that area, I had just farted in the doctor's face. With the maturity level of an 8 year old boy, I start to laugh my head off and attempt to apologize but the Sorry wasn't really coming through my fit of giggles. The doctor looks up at me and says, "Well , I guess I deserve that." HILARIOUS! Thank god he had a sense of humour although what the hell else are you supposed to do in that situation? Well there you have it. I farted in a doctor's face. I wish I hadn't been so tired at the time because in hindsight I should have said, "In your face!" but that is a regret I guess I have to live with. Stay tuned for the next blog where I reveal more amazing tidbits about my amazing bodily functions, a run in I had with a lactation specialist (a.k.a lactation nazi's) and my affiar with Jon Gosslin.