After ten long months of being pregnant with my first child Henry, I literally could not wait to meet him.
Actually, I don’t know if it was that I couldn’t wait to meet him or that I couldn’t wait for him to evacuate the premises.
I am not a good pregnant person. I gain a ton of weight, swell up kind of like the Hulk and complain ALL.DAY.LONG about the fact that I am angry, hot, sweaty and have somehow busted out four pairs of flip flops in one week.
This is a “sort of” apology to my husband for having to endure my pregnancy madness twice. But am I really THAT sorry? No. I grew a human in my uterus. I CREATED LIFE! I have C-section scars and stretch marks. I will never be able to wear a bathing suit from Target ever again.
Anyway, my labor with Henry was pretty much a disaster. I was induced because of my crazy swollenness. I was checked into the hospital at 1 am and started pushing around 2:30 pm. After three hours of pushing, it was decided that I would need a C-section because the baby was too big.
I remember it being three hours of pushing because the tv over the nurse’s head had the show Friends on. I watched six episodes, including the one where Joey wore the maternity pants to Thanksgiving.
I was wheeled into the OR and had my sweet boy surgically removed from my body. Luckily, I had skipped the C-section part of my birthing class and still to this day don’t know exactly what they do to get the baby out. I know it has something to do with removing organs and scissors and other gross things I don’t want to think about.
Fifteen minutes later, they showed me my screaming baby boy and carried him over to the warmer. I remember thinking, holy shit, that kid was living inside of me and he is massive. A whopping nine pounds, two ounces.
I fell in love with that face. I thought he was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen in my entire life. I sent pictures of him to practically every contact in my phone. They all replied back with an, “Awww congratulations, he’s beautiful. He looks just like you and/or Logan.”
But here’s the deal. Looking back at pictures, Henry looked like a potato. He was SUPER yellow because of his jaundice and his head was shaped like a cone from three hours of pushing. He didn’t look like me or Logan. He just looked like a tiny little newborn alien.
Disclaimer: I love my children with all my heart. They are adorable and precious and I would step in front of a train for them. But looking back, they were not cute newborns. Judge me all you want.
When Simon was born, I had the expectation that he would come out looking like a tiny yellow potato. Instead, he came out looking like a fat little pissed off potato. I remember the intense frown on his face when they held him up for me to see him. It was adorable. And I was in love all over again.
But once again, this fat little pissed off potato looked nothing like me or my husband. Looking back at pictures, I realize that he looked a lot like his older brother. Which led me to the fact that all newborns look like potatoes.
The next time you visit a nursery in the hospital, see if you can pick out which baby is yours just by looking at the faces of all the newborns. I bet you money that you can’t because THEY ALL LOOK LIKE POTATOES!
I know we are supposed to have some sort of crazy bond with our child and I did feel that in my heart. I also felt it in my lungs because I could breathe again. But you could give me a lineup of newborn babies and as long as they weren’t an oddball with a crazy amount of hair, I honestly don’t know if I’d be able to pick Henry or Simon out.
Does this make me a bad mom? I don’t think so. My little potatoes have grown in the most adorable, handsome little boys ever.
So the next time some tells you that your newborn is beautiful, soak it all in, because in a few years you will look back and realize they looked just like every other kid in the hospital.
Sorry, kind of.
Until Next Time,