- I cut the umbilical cord on my brother's third child, V and had to hold one of the ex-SiL's feet up on the MidWife's hip since one of their stirrups was broken. The reason I ended up cutting the cord was because my brother and ex-SiL were split up at the time and he didn't get there until V took her first breath. None of us (me, ex-SiL, and dad) had a cellphone and my brother didn't have a phone at his place so he had no idea that (ex)M had gone into full labor. She'd been in labor for three days (they had to break her water) but they were set to induce her later that morning to get things moving along but she ended up going into full labor during the night (I drove her absolutely batshit with timing every little grunt thinking it was a contraction long before we got to the hospital.). But V screamed for the first time and I heard the door behind me and T walked in, his mouth dropped and he stood there in the door long enough to be shoo'd out for a little bit and he left very quickly. (he's only been inside the delivery room with junior because he faints at too much blood. which cracks me up because he's uber-macho and has no problem with blood if it's during a fight) The MidWife handed me the scissors and said "Cut." My eloquent answer was "Who.. me?!" (I will forever deny the squeak in my voice as I said it but I'll willingly cop to the fact that the first moment I saw V I burst out into tears) The MidWife smiled and came back with "I don't cut."
This... this is not so wonderful and awesome, but it's definitely a strange part of my life:
- For those that don't know it, I have been married before. Love is not only blind - it is also deaf, dumb and insane. (I thought he looked like Keifer Sutherland in The Lost Boys and when I returned to sanity (quiet from the peanut gallery) I realized... so not) I walked down the aisle to Stryper's Honestly instead of Here Comes the Bride (which is kind of funny considering I was marrying a pathological liar). I wouldn't have made it if they'd played the traditional song so they humored me since it was a Christian band. And the preacher's name was Mike Brady (and that will never not crack me up).
I still blame my mother for that one. She shoulda let me date. Seriously! (sorta) They barely let me have guy friends since that was who I wanted to hang out with, wrestling and playing football (yeah, i know. just because it's the right thing to do doesn't make it the right thing to do given that the boys I hung out with didn't see me as anything other than one of the guys.) When I went into Job Corps I was soooo fucking unprepared for the drive from every corner to have a boy/girlfriend. Definitely hormone central. Plus I was a little phobic about something that I'll discuss at another time and a group of people found out during a game of Truth or Dare that I was still a virgin and soon after I ended up dating this guy named Q-ball (hey... I was 17 at this time. names like that were cool. sorta). Guy asked me to marry him (not the guy I actually ended marrying) after we dated for a few weeks (can't remember exactly how many), next thing I know I'm talked into climbing under an old Army barrack (campus was an old Army base) and losing my virginity and quietly freaking out because there are other couples under there in other sections getting their groove on. (sex on campus was against the rules since the ages are from 16-21.) After a few days and three more 'expressions of love' he broke up with me. I'm really not sure if he was just a pussy ass creep or if it was the fact that the last time we went to do it was in a field and the spot he chose was a Poison Ivy patch. Poor fellow's *snerk* thighs, ass, and genitals were covered in Poison Ivy. *snicker* And what about me, the poor girl that actually had to lay in the stuff? Damn good thing I inherited my dad's immunity to Poison Ivy and Poison Oak. *cackle*
Guy I did end up marrying was my fourth boyfriend and the second guy I had sex with (though I honestly try and not count my encounter with Q-Ball) and I'd really wish I could like melt the memory of the ex out of my head with bleach. That's another story for another time.