Hey you in the hat! Drop the broom and come check this out!!

I am ridiculously fed up.  Almost painfully.  I feel this is necessary.  In jest, I've often said, "I'm surrounded by lunatics," or, "I hate them all," and the truth is...I don't.  It's my humor, my defense mechanism.  Truth is...I love men, and anyone who knows me...knows this to be true.  So, my darlings, I had to dig deep for this one.  Hope it's not too graphic and you don't visualize...everything. Thanks for reading. xo, R

It's a week before the due date of our first child (who is now going on 12, but in my opinion, 33) and I have just given my maternity leave notice at Saks because my ankles just can't handle the weight of standing for 8 hours a day and I look like New Jersey in pants like a gorgeous Goddess who needs to get off her feet.  I really maintained my stylishness during my first pregnancy.  Mainly because I was a makeup artist in a department store and I had a fantastic discount and time on my hands to shop.  Those of you with more than one child know what the difference between the first child and the second makes.  Your first pregnancy it's about you, your glow, your pedicures, your belly balm, your Lamaze class, maybe something to do with your husband, whatshisname, and baby showers.  The second pregnancy it's about juggling the first child, the big child (husband), the house, job, not puking in the seafood department at Dominicks, and making sure your shoes match when you leave the house after running a brush through your hair.  Anyways...I digress.  One night I'm laying in bed tossing and turning (where's that memory foam bed when you need it. My poor husband is being bounced around like a beach ball at a Jimmy Buffet concert ) when suddenly...uh oh...something doesn't feel right.  I jump up and  run waddle leap like a pregnant gazelle to the bathroom just in time for WHOOOSH!!!  What the hell was that? I say to myself  That's not normal!  Did I spring a leak?  Did I...Holy shit, I think my water just broke.  Okay, um, it seems to have subsided, I should probably wake up G.  I open the door to the bathroom and there is G standing there fully clothed staring at me like a deer in the headlights,
"Is it time to go?" I couldn't help but laugh.
"We need to call the Doctor first.  Relax, Honey.  I'm ok."
I call the doctor and tell him my water broke and ask him if I can take a shower before I go to the hospital. He says I've got time so I do.  When I get out, I open the door to the bathroom and again G is standing there with the same look on his face but now he's standing there totally naked.
"Do I have time to take a shower, too?"
"Yes, Dear."
After he showers and dresses, we go to the garage and he opens the car door for me...he's lined the car seat with garbage bags.
"What the hell is this?" I say to him.
"Robyn, it's a BMW." He pleads.
I swear to God, I don't think he looked at the road once.  He stared at me the whole time like I was some kind of science experiment.  We get to the hospital and check in.  At this time I've still had no pain at all.  The nurse checks me and says I'm not allowed to get up anymore, I have to stay in bed and they're going to give me medicine to speed up my contractions.  I may feel some, "slight cramping."  BULLSHIT SLIGHT CRAMPING MY ASS!!!!  As soon as that stuff hit my IV, I hit the ceiling.  I have this band around my belly that monitors my contractions and so G could tell when they were coming and going so he knew when they were going to start and I'd see his face twist up like, "Oh shit, here it comes."  I went from, "Ha ha funny Robyn," to, "Oh my God what was I thinking that I could do this Robyn." I was making these weird noises with my mouth like if you were to pucker your lips together like a trumpet player and blow out really hard and I was crying.  Strangers were coming in to check how far along I was.  I swear the maintenance guy could've come in and I wouldn't have known, I was so out of my mind.  And poor G was so helpless saying, "Oh, but honey, you're doing so good.  I'm so sorry it hurts so much."  By the grace of God the epidural lady came in.  I will spare you the details of the giant needle going into my spine and how NOBODY seems to have had the weird experience of sparks and aches and wacky shit that I had with that, but after 12 hours of labor and two hours of pushing and 5 minutes short of an emergency c-section.  They grabbed my daughter with forceps and pulled her out.  (exhale) wait...that deserves another one (exhale) ahhhh, there we go. 

I'd never changed a diaper before.  I'd held a newborn once in my life and it was the same day that my friend Paula passed away, so it was a little surreal.  I'd never put a baby in a car seat or made a bottle.  G took off a week from work and was my rock.  He showed me what I had to do.  He took our daughter and was a natural.  He'd practically raised his sister that was 13 years younger than he, so he was immediately at ease.  He brought me vanilla cake in bed and let me sleep as much as I could.  He may not have been the best husband...but I have always said he's a good dad.  He loves the children more than he loves life.  I had made a post on Facebook today asking for friends to tell me a good story about the men in their lives because I was having a hard time with some of the looptyloos in mine right now that are reeeeeeaaaallllyyyy testing my patience.  I thought it fitting that I write my own story of gratitude to a man that deserves much more credit than I give him. Although, he'll never see this, thank you, Gal, for everything you do for me and the kids.  I know you always try.

My song picks are:
Baby Mine by Bette Midler
Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd
In My Daughter's Eyes by Martina McBride