Or as I like to call it - "Happy Birthday, Bailey!"

Eleven years and one day ago, a mother-to-be checked into Northside Hospital in Atlanta.

6 months old

For 37 weeks, I had done nothing but complain about acne, puking all day long, shooting up with insulin, watching my ankles swell to a 36-inch waistline, and fighting off pre-term labor.  In short, I sucked at pregnancy.  

So I was pretty happy when my blood pressure was so high that they decided to induce early.  All that crying, pleading and puking on my doctor's shoes hadn't gotten me anywhere.

When I arrived at the hospital, they gave me Cervidil - or as I like to call it - "death by fire crotch".  They also gave me a sleeping pill, which probably would've have worked if my cervix wasn't burning like it was on the SUN.

So I figured that if I couldn't sleep, I might as well get this whole labor thing started.  HEY - THIS IS EASY.  Why does everybody complain about labor?  I've eaten burritos that caused more stomach pain - or as I like to call it - "This is the easy part, you dumbass."

2 years old

By 7 AM, they started my pitocin drip - or as I like to call it - "the Devil's juice".   The contractions got harder, but I was doing great!  Besides, this shouldn't take too much longer....right?

By 4 PM, I had only dilated to 4 centimeters - or as I like to call it - "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!  Can somebody get me a stick of dynamite?  It's time to evict this kid!"

The hospital staff felt sorry for me being so suckish at childbirth and all, so it was epidural time. Yay!  Relief is on the way!

While the anesthesiologist was sticking a very large needle INTO MY SPINE, he decided that this would be a good time to flirt with the nurse.  And I thought to myself, 'Should I say something to him?  Because all this chit-chat is really making me nervous, but....  Nah.  He's a professional.  He can probably do this sort of thing in his sleep.'  About that time, I heard the anesthesiologist say, "Oops" - or as I like to call it - "WTF".

Here's the thing about an epidural that's been put in the wrong place: it numbs the wrong areas.  Everything from the bellybutton up felt dead.  I couldn't lift my arms, my eyes swelled shut and I had to coach myself to breathe in... and breathe out... breathe in...and  breathe out.  However, everything from the bellybutton down was completely in-tact - or as I like to call it - "You'll be hearing from my attorney."

5 years old

So the rest of the labor and delivery had to be done au naturel.  When she was finally born, it wasn't painful.  IT WAS AN OUT OF BODY EXPERIENCE.  I felt like I had been ripped in half.  I remember thinking that the best plastic surgeons in the world wouldn't be able to repair the damage - or as I like to call it - "Uhmmm, yes, ma'am.  Who do I talk to about joining the convent?"

Unfortunately, my OB-GYN didn't get the memo about the botched epidural.  Thinking that I was numb, she starting stitching me up.  OUCH! - or as I like to call it - "Is there an award for using that many cuss words in one sentence?"

By the time we got into a hospital room, it was about 3 AM and I finally fell asleep.  But at 6 o'clock, a nurse woke me up and said, "Mama, she's ready to eat" - or as I like to call it - "I'll pay you ONE MILLION DOLLARS if you let me sleep another hour."

8 years old

I had just given Bailey a bottle when my Mom said in her sweet, motherly tone, "And, of course, you'll set the baby on your shoulder and gently pat her back to burp her."  And I said, "Really?  You mean I actually have to do that?  I thought they just did that in the movies."  Then Bailey peed all over me because I had put her diaper on backward - or a I like to call it - "Any idiot can have a baby."

Even though I was scared and overwhelmed and obviously clueless, I was so happy.  I held that beautiful, tiny, living, breathing person in my arms and thanked God for choosing me to be her mother.  (And I promised to read a few parenting books, too.)

It was just me and Bailey for so many years, so she will always have a special place in my heart that belongs to only her.

Birthday breakfast date with my 11-year-old

Happy Birthday, Bailey Faith - or as I like to call it - "Happy Birthday to the most precious girl in the world!"

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