Big number 4!

I wish I had one of those touching stories about giving birth. I was standing in line at the city, trying to get the water hooked up to my new residence. Municipal utilities are much like banks, and never have as many people at the counter as they have humming around behind them, distracting the overworked clerks by TALKING to them--While I go into labor waiting.
But we waited all through the line (I love my mommy), got everything turned on (hee-hee-hoo-hoo--I heart lamaze, too), and my mother drove me to the hospital. After that it's a druggy haze.

Little O was face down, not face up like they like,and they gave me so many drugs that I was asleep until the contractions peaked, when I woke up screaming (not like the lady down the hall, thank you--I don't do horror movie drama), and then would pass out again. My doctor was gone, so I got the wise cracking partner from his practice. I remember looking at the Honey, horrified, when the Doctor swung the bloody afterbirth around, whistling at the size--and then he dropped it.

She was tiny and perfect, and I wanted my mommy (who was watching Big O), and it seemed like (hello, DrUgS) two minutes after I gave birth, the Honey's sister and family hit. I was still fairly new to them, and a little disconcerted, but the drugs helped tremendously--and the fact that the afterbirth had been retired. I think I even gave up waiting and told them all I had to pee now. I wanted to go home, but the hospital insisted that I stay at least one night, and I thought, Okay, a little help would be nice.

I got the bitch from hell roommmate who was not breastfeeding, and would heave big dramatic sighs and fluff her pillow and toss and turn dramatically whenever Little O fussed. Her baby, you understand, was in the nursery, only to make occasional appearances. I looved that Little O was with me, but finally wanted a break from the cow's drama, so buzzed the nurse and asked if she could take little O to the nursery so "we" could rest, and bring her to me when she got hungry. I was told that breastfeeders are never away from their moms. Thanks for the help, ladies.

The hospital advised me that I could stay another day, and I refused. I went home where there were people to help. I hope that big cow stayed away from her crack pipe, but I'm sure she didn't.

Big O was thrilled until he found out she didn't DO anything. Then he went back to Bionicles. But at school he proudly introduced her to everyone, right down to the daycare receptionist. He said This is my sister, Little O. She's Little O Garcia when she's good and when she's bad She's Little O Bee (her middle name). Yep, I'm that mother. Your middle name comes out when I'm good and mad.

Little O hears her middle name a lot these days, but I wouldn't trade her for the winning lotto numbers. Today she is NOT getting a big party, but she IS getting to dress up as a princess all day, complete with rhinestone tiara, and visit all of her adoring subjects.

Love my O's!