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    Things you don’t tell your life insurance agent

    March 24, 2009

    Two days after I had The Closer (that would be unmedicated, Shane), I got this searing pain in my leg.  I looked down and realized that I had what appeared to be a clot in my vericose vein.

    I have never had a clot in a vein before.  I was sure I was dying.  You get a clot in your vein, you throw the clot (not exactly sure how you choose which direction to throw it or who came up with THAT terminology anyway) and then you are dead.  You are dead two days after you give unmedicated birth to gynormous head and now your husband is a widow with three children, ages 4, 2, and 2 days old.  Either that or you are like Dick Cheney sitting in a wheelchair at the inauguration, looking horribly put out, just because he didn’t do those exercises with your feet (make the letters of the alphabet) to keep your circulation going on long flights on Air Force Two.

    There I was crying and I called the midwife.  She was all, “what blood clot? Call me back in an hour if you don’t feel better.”  This is a standard midwife thing, this call me back in an hour.  I hung up the phone as Derek was walking in from getting the mail. 

    K:  I have a blood clot and I’m gonna die.
    D:  That’s funny, because this notice we just got in the mail today says your life insurance policy was cancelled due to lack of payment.

    Crap.  I knew I forgot to pay something last month and now I’m going to die and my husband won’t be able to bury me, let alone find someone to take care of my children.  And this is not good because if he doesn’t have money to bury me, I wouldn’t put it past him to just dig a hole in the back yard and plead some “she would want to be close to us” BS to avoid the expense altogether.

    Then I called my FIL in Australia and he said that as long as it wasn’t creeping up my leg, I was probably fine.  It was 3:30 a.m. there.  Oops.

    I called the life insurance guy and said I got the notice.  And I borrowed the lovely “due to an oversight I failed to pay the bill” wordage they had so graciously provided.  But then my midwife called back in the middle of the call because she knew that “call me back in one hour” might be a not-so-good idea if it was gonna kill me and I yelled “I have to go, Pete.  The doctor is calling me and I really need to take this.  I’ll call you back.”

    With that the midwife told me to go get an ultrasound to make sure I wasn’t dying. 

    Susie Sunshine:  You know you just told your insurance agent that you had to hang up to talk to a doctor, right?
    K:  Yeah.
    Susie Sunshine:  Isn’t that kinda letting him in on the fact that you might be dying?
    K:  Yeah.
    Derek:  You might want to hold back that info until AFTER you pay the bill. 

    Seriously?  Seriously.  With friends and husbands like this, who needs enemies. 

    The vein that has the clots (yes, my clot had babies) is a superficial vein and they don’t do anything for it.  It is caused by the combo of my bad veins and the surge of estrogen after the baby is born that keeps you from bleeding out.  It makes sure you clot.  It’s just that I also clotted my whole damn leg.  They don’t do anything for it, it hurts like a mofo, they don’t know when it will get better and now I get to wear support compression hose that take 15 minutes to put on.  It’s awesome.  But at least now I have life insurance again and I’m not going to throw a clot.  WooHOO!!

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    Mason Gray, 9 lbs. 3 oz. and yes, that head is every bit of 15 inches

    March 22, 2009

    masonLong time, right? Sorry to everyone on twitter who thought I was in labor at least three separate times twoweeks and then never saw I had The Closer. You would have thought I had never been in labor before, what with the way I was crying and carrying on. “When is this baby coming, I’m tired of contractions” blah, blah, blah, bullshit. It was only ’til the next to the last midwife I talked to said to me, “feel free to call me. When I can do something for you” that I needed to SUCK IT UP ALREADY and wait for real contractions.

    I cried on the phone to Susie Sunshine, who went online and bought a ticket for the very next day–Tuesday. She said it was my combination of hilarity and patheticsm that brought her to the DC Metro Area as my personal savior. Perhaps it was the line “And now my baby might be born on Osama Bin Laden’s birthday and does anyone really need to go through life with that on their shoulders and what kind of person lists Osama Bin Laden on the Celebrity Birthday List anyway?” that brought her here to conduct immediate intervention. It didn’t matter because as soon as she booked her ticket, I was sure I was in labor that night.

    I was so sure I was going into labor on Monday night that I even called The Cake Lady to come over to watch my children. Then my contractions stopped. So much so that I fell asleep and didn’t wake up for 4 hours until 5:30 a.m.

    But when I woke up, I was in labor. At least I thought I was in labor. No, I knew I was in labor. However, as the boy who cried wolf, I wasn’t calling until a different midwife was on duty. (Note: every time I called the midwives, I knew I wasn’t in labor. I just wanted them to tell me that so I could cry more). The Husband was all, “just call” and I was all, “are you gonna make me that egg and cheese on a bagel now, bitch, because I am going to start eating these sheets in this bed, I’m so hungry, and these contractions are only getting closer together.”

    In case you were wondering, it really is kinda difficult to eat a bagel, egg and cheese in 3 minutes. I thought it would be easier, but that was the bagel, egg, contraction and cheese breakfast on Monday morning. I’m thinking for speed, it probably would have been better to go with the English muffin, egg and cheese combo. But I digress.

    I called the call service at 6:30 and found out that a different midwife who had not yet been tortured by me was on call. I called her. Trouble? I was too cheery. But I’m just cheery. Seriously. I was in labor but she didn’t think I was in labor. I told her that the last time I was like this and I gave birth 1 1/2 hours later.

    She said, “fine!” and said she would be on her way. She lives on the other side of town so she didn’t show up at my house until around 7:30 and then she confessed that she thought I was too cheery and then I told her I was just pissed because normally I am the smartest ass in the room and it was clear the competition was gonna be hot for the morning.

    She started to fill out paperwork and the birth assistant went to lay down to rest. I guess this childbirth thing is stressful for everyone involved. I looked at my husband.

    He looked at me.

    I said, “they don’t think I am in labor.”

    Then my water broke three minutes later and I sent him back upstairs to find them because I was gonna have a baby and he was all “she’s gonna have a baby now” and they were “okay” but then they came back downstairs and everyone was having a discussion about paperwork while standing over my vag. Did I mention I was having a baby? So I just screamed, “I’M GONNA PUSH” and they all looked at me like I was crazy and then I pushed and had a baby in the basement of my house in my favorite bedroom of all where my favorite bed is and where I hide out from my family, every so often.

    The pushing part wasn’t that quick. It was apparently 15 minutes. But I think it is safe to say that 15 minutes isn’t that bad considering The Closer’s head rivaled that of The Boy’s head. So much so that I flashed back to Eat’s birth in the middle. A flash back as I screamed, “SOMEBODY GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!” Okay, I may have used a derogatory word before baby but I was under a lot of unmedicated stress. Which, of course, was my choice, but good Lord in heaven, do all of you children have to have big heads?

    The Cake Lady was there for everything and she even held one of my appendages as I screamed my profanity, rather than bringing my child into the world gently and kindly and sweetly. Her version of my birth story is given teary-eyed and uses words like “quietly,” “sweetly” and “softly.” Having been the only person in my house actually giving birth at that time, I am still at a loss for WHO THE HELL SHE IS TALKING ABOUT but bless her heart. If she remembers it that way, than so be it.

    Oh. And instead of panting through the contractions, I repeated the mantra “I never have to do this again.” I said it several times. It made me happy.

    Baby Mason is the greatest baby in the whole world except for his brothers. They were too. So I guess he as to share a three-way tie for the greatest baby of all time. Eat and Nate argue INCESSANTLY over who gets to hold him and Nate likes to stick his finger into his baby brother’s left nostril. I don’t know why. Kids do the darndest things.

    Then there were blood clots and jaundice and baby weight issues and frankly, I was too cranky to blog.  Now I realize that those things probably aren’t going away any time soon so here I sit.  With Baby Mason Gray.  Born 3/10/09 at 9:57 a.m.  Isn’t he the awesomest thing you have ever seen?

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