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Ask me what day it is and I won't be able to tell you. It is 10:30 in the morning now and I got up, showered and put on pajamas. Time doesn't exist right now. I live by the book - the notebook by the bed where we write down the times Mamie feeds on what breast, number of "evacuations" (ask me about flurorescent poop. Then again, don't.) and important musings from the lactation consultant (I have cabbage in my bra as I write this.) This shit is hard, man (imagine me saying that with a shot of whiskey that I guzzle, then slam down hard on the bar.) I understand why people use formula, have nannies and are obsessed with talking about nipples (don't get me started. I have never shown my gazongas unashamedly to so many people before in my life.) Mamie was two weeks old yesterday and has gained 6 ounces in one week. Her birthmark ear skin tags were tied off last week, her belly button fell off and her lungs are developing quite nicely. She likes to exercise them in the middle of the night, which is more of a drag for our neighbors (yay!) than for us. I guess we're doing well. It's hard to tell with all the sleep deprivation. I try not to think about not having 8 hours in a row, ever ever again and I try not to grimace when people say "You'll get sleep when they're 18!", like it's really funny. I shall instead rejoice in the occasional 4 hour stretch. Yes, I shall.

I know I owe ya'll the labor story. This is the breakdown:

7:00AM - arrive at NYU hospital with 5 minute apart contractions and am told that there are NO BIRTHING ROOMS AVAILABLE. We sit in front of the nurses station (because the waiting room is too full) and make sad faces.
8AM - Sad faces turn into pain faces. Please don't let the baby drop out here.
8:40AM - A woman named Flotila takes me to a birthing room after Doug calls the doctor again and tells him that we are ready to book. Ta-Da, that worked and I am in a room, in a bed, with the TV on and a nurse practioner's hand up my clacker (don't they have a better way to check this?) I'm only dilated to a 2 so they put me on a pitocin drip. Contractions are coming a little stronger but not super painful. YET.
10AM - Look, "ELLEN" is on TV! Let's watch.
11AM - Same old, same old. I try to sleep and Doug curls up on the window sill. Contractions are still there and getting slightly stronger.
12PM - That reality show "STARTING OVER" is on and while those women have it tough, the contractions are a little tougher. Epidural, please! The epi squad comes in and actually takes a minute to watch the show before they start to needle me. No shit.
12:30PM - A fresh faced kid comes in to ask me questions like "do I take street drugs?' before he gvies me my epidural. He has a herpes on his lip which I stare at too much. Please don't give me your herpes lip.
12:45PM - Epidural-giving starts. But the anesthesiologist funks it up and it feels like a bad acupuncture needle. I explain this to the guy and he looks at me like I am insane in the membrane. Meanwhile I am still hooked up to two IVs, have a blood pressure band around my other arm that randomly tightens and am getting intensely major contractions. This takes, like, 30 minutes.
1:15PM - Epidural is in. "AMBUSH MAKEOVER" is on the telly. I am in pig heaven. Contractions are off the chart but who feels anything? Labor is fun!
2:00PM - Ok, the epidural is wearing off only on the right side. What tha?
2:25PM - Another way-too-young-doctor comes in, futzes with the epi and tells me to use my handy dandy button to up the wattage after he can't figger out what the dealio is.
2:36PM - I am upping the wattage -- to no avail.
2:37PM - Ditto.
2:40PM - Another anethesia person comes in and decides to crank it up big time.
3:00PM - I ain't feelin' nothing. Me likee. My water breaks and I don't feel a thing, but it is super gross. And warm. And I'm soaking in it.
4:25PM - My doctor finally shows up. Someone else from his office was supposed to check my dilation but no one came in ALL DAY. He does the hand puppet test of seeing how dilated I am and is not pleased to see that I am fully dilated and too numb to push. "No epidural for you," he declares, like the soup Nazi refusing me grub. He shuts off my IV.
4:26PM - The mind numbing pain starts, emanating from my back. I have what they call "back labor," i.e. the most painful labor there is. Mommie!
4:27PM - Dang, this hurts.
Time unaccounted for: Me crying to Doug that this is "unbearable." In the meantime my nurse comes in to tell me that my doctor is "rough" and to generally make me feel like crap. I find out that she has been replaced by my doctor and most likely just came in to take it out on me. Why, thank you. I'm glad I know your name so I can report you, KYM.
Around 5-something PM - Time to push. "Imagine yourself in a field squatting the biggest poop of your life." Folks, meet my new labor nurse, Georgette. The first push brings the baby's head down. Weird feeling. I can still feel that sensation. It is frankly indeed like a half in/half out poop. Didn't feel half bad.
5 something PM - Doctor comes in, sees me pushing and declares that "the baby isn't going to come out if I'm only pushing like THAT" and so he leaves the room. HE LEAVES THE ROOM.
5 something PM - Me and Georgette stay in the field, imagining that poop. I try the squatting bar, where I hang over it until I give myself bruises on my arms. I can feel my face explode from pain. I try the legs up position, and then when the doctor comes back they put me in stirrups and finally I have something to push against. I push when there isn't a contraction because it feels better. I am a cheater that way. Whatever. I am in the field! Where is my poop/daughter?
6:00 PM - The doctor sees that I mean business and on go his waterproof scrubs and I believe a bucket of some sort goes underneath the "area." "This is it," the doctor says and with that, little Mamie pops out and arrives on my chest.
6:02 PM - WOW WOW WOW. It's a baby! Out of my cooter! Magically all pain has stopped.
6:03PM: Magically all pain has started again with the delivery of the placenta. But nothin' like birthin' the babe. BTW, the placenta is GROSS. The doctor pushes down on my stomach and it deflates like a cheap tire.
6:04PM - Doug holds the baby and we are quiet and awestruck. Oh my god, a human being came out of THERE. That's all I'm thinking about. No tears yet. Nothing feels real. Doug was with me the whole time I delivered but I didn't dare look at him for fear of scaring him. I was an animal in there. "There is nothing like seeing your wife trying to get a baby out on a squatting bar," is what he likes to say. He calls me a hero and I break down and so does he. Let the postpartum crying jags commence!
6:05PM - Baby on the teat. Wow. Feels fine, doesn't hurt. Oh, the foreshadow of it all.
6:06PM - Doug mentions that uh oh, my pitocin drip was on the WHOLE TIME I was pushing. Interesting. Our doula tells us that it's a good thing "my uterus didn't explode" because of it. Helpful information.
8:00PM - Arrive in my tiny, tiny shared room. My roommate is a 25 year old Orthodox woman who has just given birth to her third child. She seems nice but all I can do is stare at her wig hanging on the radiator.

You get the idea. Life changing, strange, beautiful, teary and bloody. Oh, how bloody birth is. But my friend, Percosette, was there to help me through it. I checked the baby into the nursery where she was brought into me every 2 hours for a'suckling. Loved it when the nurse decided to take blood from me while she was on the teat. Also loved the huge bruise she left for me. Then again, at least she came in to see me. See, NYU Hospital was totally overbooked with inducements so some people, like my second roommate, had to give birth in the ER. There were no rooms for lots of people which sucked, because that meant the daily breastfeeding classes they had (which I was depending on) didn't exist. There were none, so I was basically winging it. Which is why I am writing this with cabbage and ice in my bra (Google It). But guess what I got in the mail today? An evaluation form from the hospital. Think I'll fill it out when I'm most sleep deprived, then run out and mail it. Mamie and I are sloooooowly becoming used to each other, but it is amazing how much I love her already. Even when she is screaming. And she screams. She turns red. She flails. But she's my girl and she can do no wrong. She's the best.