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Welcome to the World

Meet Makenna Kay McGlathery. I never expected that The Varmint and I would fall so hard and go completely ga-ga in such a short time.

How it All Went Down

I'm hanging out with The Varmint last Wednesday night. That day, we'd been to the doctor and discovered that despite being a week overdue, we'd made no progress.

The percentages and centimeters were the same as ever - and because the baby was late and all estimates indicated she'd be on the big side, we'd been required to schedule a c-section for the following Monday.

The truth is, I was a wee bit bummed about it.

Surprise, Surprise

I am stretched out on the sofa, half-watching the tube and thinking about this. Suddenly, I hear a very audible, almost cartoon-like little "pop."

I wasn't sure what it was right away. I mean, I actually made it to the toilet without ruining my sofa or anything. It wasn't like it is in the movies - you know, where a bucket full of water hits the floor. Shannon and I stand there stupified for awhile, then call Deb because we're still unsure to have her come over and check the toilet. (I think you could classify this as the direct opposite of a booty call.) Anyway, it was definitely the truest test of friendship I'd ever posed to anyone - and it should be noted that Deb didn't flinch: "I'm a mother of two. I see worse nearly every day of my life."

After glancing at the toilet contents, she nods. We call the doctor. He tells us to get to the hospital.

Knowing it's going to be a long haul, we take our sweet time, the three of us sitting around and talking, timing mini contractions.

How do you describe that cliche of the drive to the hospital? For me, it was crazy mix of feelings, surprisingly bittersweet. I realize I'll miss my belly at about the same rate as I develop excitement at the thought of meeting my daughter - and nervousness at the thought of labor. We don't speed, there is no panic. Instead, I feel an overwhelming surge of love for my husband; we've never been more together, more a team, than we are at this moment.

We check in. The nurse asks me for my photo identification. I look to my hand, and realize that instead of my purse, I brought a banana. ( I was very concerned before we left that I wouldn't have anything to eat for the duration of labor, see?) The Varmint, the doctor and the nursing staff are laughing at me.

"It's her security banana," he says to them. And they all start laughing again.

 

Things Get Rolling

A few minutes later, it's confirmed: My water's broken. Later the doctor tells me that I was so mellow and composed as I called in that he was shocked to discover that this was my first baby. I tell him that he's mistaken composure for a woman smoking the sweet crack of denial.

Like it or not, we're on our way.

Labor & Delivery

After a groan-inducing grope around my innards, the doc tells me that he feels confident that I'll be able to manage a traditional delivery. Yeah, right.

After 20 hours' worth of contractions and a barf-fest bar none (which surprisingly at the time, didn't seem that bad to me - but horrible to Jenny, Deb and Shannon - my three coaches), our baby girl was born via c-section September 28, 2006.

The Varmint (as husbandly hand-holder) and Deb (as photographer) went in the O.R. with me, decked out in their sterile spacesuits. Even as wasted as I was, they looked hilarious.

In the end, not for one second did I feel disappointment in the fact that Mak and I required the intervention of surgeons to look one another in the eye, live and out-person.

The reason? Our baby girl weighed in at 9 pounds, 15 ounces. (She dominated the nursery that night, stealing all the other newborns' blankies and skull caps.) Essentially, we're talking about a ten-pounder, people. If you were to see me in all my petite 5-foot, 5-inch glory, you'd know the likelihood of me pushing out a baby of that size without suffering the Worst Episiotomy Ever: ZERO.

The doctors and nurses all agreed. Nope, major abdominal surgery or no, I'll take that c-section, thankyouverymuch. My taint breathed a sigh of relief. 

The Vitals

Baby Makenna came in at 20.75 inches long, with bright blue eyes (hard to see in the pics, but the pediatrician is pretty sure they're stayin' blue) and a nice thatch of thick brown hair that already puts The Varmint's to shame.

Best of all, she is healthy-healthy-healthy, good natured (for a mini-dictator) and absolutely thriving. The no-sleep, mood swings and mayhem make no difference - The Varmint and I couldn't be happier or more in love.

Speaking of which, thanks to all of you for yours. The warm wishes and kind words remain a balm to my bruised and battered bits. Love to all.

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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >