We BOTH left in diapers.

Holy sh!t we are parents. We are now responsible for another person. A tiny terrorist who will basically hold us hostage for the rest of our lives. Joel and I are forever linked by blood now. He can't get rid of me now. After a grueling five week pregnancy and 29 hours of labor, we did it. Mostly me, but Joel was there too. The epidural that I'd fallen in love with wore off and it was time to move us to recovery. All I wanted was a bacon cheeseburger and to sleep for hours in my own bed. I wouldn't get that bacon cheeseburger until the next day and even though I'm back in my own bed, still to this day, I haven't slept for "hours". During the transition into our new room, Joel would not let go of Jordan. He even helped support her body while I breastfed her because I was shaking so bad from the pain and the epidural wearing off, I could barely hold her. He carried her to our recovery room in his arms and didn't want to ever put her down. He is still equally smitten with her to this day. Once we move to the recovery suite, its time to get down to business. I'm in so much pain and have no idea how to care for myself. We meet my favorite nurse. This woman singlehandedly saved my vagina. I will never forget you, Chandra.

Chandra gave me a couple pain pills that I initially didn't want to take. She read my chart and told me to trust her and take the pills. Joel agreed with her and told me it was time for me to stop being stubborn and to just take the damn pills. I am SO glad I listened. I can't imagine what the pain would have been like if I hadn't taken them, because it still hurt pretty damn bad with them. My dear Chandra introduced me to a "vagicare system" that would carry me through the entire healing process. She even managed to snag me a ton of extra supplies for me to take home. First step, liberally apply EpiFoam to three overlapping Tucks pads. Second, try not to cry as you apply that to your recently reconstructed lady parts. She used the words "slap them up there", but I installed them much more delicately. Thirdly, install a giant pad that goes from belly button to the top of your butt crack, followed by an ice pack about half that size. Lastly, put on the ever flattering disposable mesh undies to hold the various pieces of equipment in place. Repeat these steps every two hours and after every trip to the bathroom. I cried every time. I feared the bathroom.

I thought finally I could rest, maybe even take a nap. NOPE. Between the team of nurses coming in to check my vitals every few hours and the team of nurses coming in to run tests and check on Jordan every couple hours, I didn't get to sleep for more than an hour at a time. On top of that, the first real food I had was a hospital grade crap lunch including the worst turkey sandwich I'd ever had in my entire life, a granola bar, an apple and a bag of plain chips. I was tired, starving, in so much pain, cranky and miserable. I know poor Joel was feeling the same way. Except he had cookies, and his genitalia was intact.

Once again, Joel stepped up to the plate and throughout the next two days, he was incredible. I told him to go home and shower and get some sleep but he refused and insisted on camping out in the recliner next to my bed and Jordan's container. After we were settled in our room I asked Joel to change her diaper. Then he reminded me he had no idea how to do that. After a lot of laughs and Joel fumbling around, I successfully taught him how to change a diaper. He changed damn near every single one after that, meconium and all. He helped me out of bed and to the bathroom every single time. He helped me nurse Jordan at all hours of the night. He was my cheerleader. He also got me real food. I had my first experience with Potbelly Sandwiches during that hospital stay. He woke up every single time a doctor came in to check on me or Jordan. Watching him transform from just Joel to Jordan's Father in just 24 hours was an incredible sight to see. Joel was nothing short of incredible, to both of his girls.

Those two days and two nights were a blur. Between breastfeeding every two hours, the constant flow of Doctors, Nurses and Visitors, Joel and I were already exhausted and our parenting journey hadn't even really started yet. We are so f**ked already. In the blink of an eye, it was Sunday, August 6th. Discharge day for both of us. August 6th was also my 33rd birthday, one I'll never forget. Who needs presents or a party? I would be bringing home the greatest gift of all, our Daughter. 

But only if I pooped first. Yes you read that right. I needed to prove I could poop. The hospital will not let you leave until you take the most painful sh!t of your life. Thankfully, before my Mom left the hospital the day Jordan was born, she gave me the best advice she had ever given. LIE. Lie and tell the nurse that you pooped so you can go home. Thank you Mom. A million times over, thank you. Because that dreadful poop didn't come until the following Wednesday, where I experienced pain worse than labor. I'm sure you are looking forward to reading that blog later.

Jordan and I both left the hospital that day wearing a diaper. Joel did the typical Dad thing and fumbled around with the car seat doing some last minute strap adjustments. He then loaded both his girls into the car, and for the first time since she was born, the three of us were alone. Joel said it was the most terrifying drive of his entire life.

OH SH!T. Now what?

Joy and Pain

Joel walks back into the room holding our baby girl. He is sobbing. He looks at me, and mouths the words "she's perfect, I love you". My tattoo covered, heavy metal loving, tough guy fiancé, was sobbing. My heart still melts to this day when I think about that moment. She's already stolen his heart and has him wrapped around her tiny little fingers. She had all ten of them by the way. I finally caught my breath. My 6lb. 5oz, 19" baby girl was safely wrapped up in her Daddy's arms. Jordan Faris made the three of us a family on Friday, August 4, 2017 at 9:37am, 13 hours and 6 minutes after being officially admitted to the hospital and 29(ish) total hours of labor.

Oh but wait. This whole experience is far from over. I still have to deliver the placenta and they still have to put my lady bits back together to something resembling a vagina. Placentas are gross. One short push and the thing slithered out of me and made a splat sound as is fell into basin placed the bottom of my bed under my ass.  Joel accidentally looked at it when they were inspecting it to make sure it was intact, he said it looked like a "weird jellyfish".

The doctor and the midwife are at the bottom of my bed inspecting my vajayjay with a magnifying glass/light combo on wheels, each with a pair of oversized tweezers in hand. I can only assume they are trying to see how to piece me back together. They aren't doing anything, just talking about it. This was concerning. I hear the midwife say the word "significant". That can't be good. The only thing keeping me from sobbing and beginning the grieving process over the loss of my what used to be perfect vagina; was seeing Joel totally smitten with our new baby girl. I try my best to focus on him and tune out what is happening down there. Two suture packs and 30 minutes later, both the doctor and the midwife working together manage to finally sew me back together. They ask if I want a mirror to check it out. NOPE. After that I didn't look down there for almost 3 weeks.

I thank the doctor and he leaves the room, off to save more babies I assumed. The midwife explains to both Joel and I that I suffered a grade 3 episiotomy, had about 20 or so sutures, inside and out, and that my road to recovery would be long and difficult. I look at Joel and tell him we are never ever having sex again. After all, this is all his fault. Then in walks the Nazi. What is he doing here? He tells me it's time to remove the epidural catheter. WHAT? NO! I fought so hard to get it and now he wants to take it away. Doesn't he know I just pushed a watermelon out of a hole the size of a grape and these people damn near cut me a new asshole? Literally. I sit up, he injects my with some fentanyl to "take the edge off" (which it totally did NOT) and then removes the epidural catheter. Then the nurse immediately removes the other catheter so I can eventually pee in a toilet as opposed to a bag. Within seconds, I began to regain sensation from my hips down and it was f*&king horrible. I thought contractions were bad. Nope, this. This is worse.

Joel comes over and lays our perfect creation on my chest. I know every parent thinks they have the most beautiful child in the world. I even told Joel if she comes out ugly I'll be the first one to admit it, but Jordan is truly beautiful. Words cannot describe that feeling of having her on my chest. I cannot even begin to put into writing what this moment felt like. The only way I can try to get you to understand how this felt is that my entire life leading up to this very moment was suddenly insignificant. Now, I am whole. She is everything I never knew I wanted, and more. I have never loved anyone or anything as much as I love this tiny human who I just met an hour ago for the first time. I attempt to breastfeed and to my amazement, she latches on right away. The bond was instant. I was in so much pain but for that moment, it didn't matter.

Mommy and Baby

After our "golden hour" together, They take Jordan away from me to reevaluate her Apgar, she scores a 9 again. Then the nurse tells me its time for me get up and try and go to the bathroom. She must be insane. She helps me up and I waddle to the bathroom, ass hanging out the back of my gown, and tears pouring down my face. Every step was agonizing, and sitting was even worse. I felt like I'd been ripped in half. I sit down on the toilet and the nurse comes in and squats right in front of me, spreads my legs and with a water bottle and begins squirting my vajay with warm water. I wanted to slap her in the face. She tells me I have to pee. I sat on that toilet for a good 10 minutes before a trickle of pee leaks out. I yell at the nurse "there! You happy now! I peed. I'm going back to bed!". She's so close to stealing the Nazi title from the epidural man, I swear.

My first visitors are my Mom, Dad and Sister. Seeing my family each hold Jordan for the first time will forever be one of my favorite memories. Even though I still look pregnant, I have a hell of a headache, my vagina hurts more than words can describe, I'm starving, Joel ate all the cookies, and I look like I've been hit by a truck, I'm happier than I've ever been in my entire life. I did it. With Joel by my side every step of the way and my family waiting patiently in the waiting room, I delivered our perfect baby girl, Jordan.

Joy and Pain

Sound the Alarm

It's baby time! The excitement is overwhelming. I can't explain it, but instinctually, my body just knew what to do. I could feel the pressure of a contraction and my body just knew when and how to push. It was uncomfortable, but it I wouldn't describe it as pain...yet. Joel held my hand, brushed my hair back, he told me over and over again how great of a job I was doing, how proud he was of me, and how close we were to meeting our baby. I needed to hear all of those things. I was SO tired. I'd been in labor for what seemed like forever and its exhausting to say the least. Even though you're laying down the whole time, it takes one hell of a toll on your body. Joel later told me it took everything he had to not laugh at me while I was pushing. Apparently my face turned redder than my hair because I was pushing so hard and I was grunting like wild boar. Bless his soul.

After pushing about six times, all of the sudden in the middle of my next push, the fetal monitoring alarm went off. My baby's heart rate dropped, then went right back up to normal. I panicked and yelled "what the hell is that?". My midwife told me it happens sometimes and I shouldn't worry about it. But I WAS worried. No one wants to hear that sound. I can still hear it in my mind, I still have nightmares about it. I pushed about three more times, and the alarm sounded off each time. Then on my next push, the alarm sounded, but this time it didn't stop. Her heart rate plummeted and wasn't coming back up. This time it wasn't my Mom and Joel telling me not to push, it was my midwife. And that when things got scary. Our baby's umbilical cord was compressing, cutting off her oxygen with every contraction.

Our perfect girl

My midwife hits the emergency button next to my bed. A flood of nurses from the L & D floor and the NICU rush into my room as well as the Doctor in charge of the entire floor. They basically push Joel out of the way, two nurses grab my legs, and push them all the way up into my armpits. The doctor and all the nurses are talking so fast about vacuum assisted birth, forceps and episiotomy's. I look over at Joel, who has basically been forced into the corner, and he is terrified. I could see it all over his face. He later told me he thought in those few minutes he was going to lose us both. I was so scared, I needed him to be strong for me and the baby. I literally yelled at him, "change your face!". And he did immediately. He manned up and even though he wasn't next to me anymore, I just looked at him and knew we would be ok. Then I see the doctor rip open a steri-pouch and pull out a pair of sharp ass scissors. Oh shit, I thought to myself. I know what this means. Episiotomy time. He's going to give me a vag-anus. I hope he knows what he's doing. Joel better not be watching this.

With one swift motion, he performs a grade 3 episiotomy. I wouldn't Google that if you know what's good for you. I swear it was so quick it was like he was cutting through tissue paper. The doctor looks at me and says, "I need you to push like your baby's life depends on it, because it does. We have to get her out NOW and she won't make it to the OR." He was yelling at me. I needed to be yelled at.

Up until that moment, I didn't feel like a Mom. Hell, I'd only been pregnant in my mind for five weeks. When the doctor told me that, I reached down deep into my soul and my maternal instinct took over. I pushed so hard. I was the only one who could save my baby. And I did. She came sliding out in that one powerful push. And it HURT. For a split second, oh my God did it hurt. She came out screaming, peeing on everyone and everything. They place her on my chest for a second before whisking her out of the room to check on her. I did it. She's here and she's ok.

I yell at Joel to follow our baby because I've seen the Lifetime movies, y'all. The ones where the hospital accidentally switches babies. That was certainly not going to happen to us. I yell "what's her Apgar?" as they wheeled her out in her little box. The nurse laughed. She had only been out of my womb for less than a minute and I was already demanding to know her test score. NINE. Her Apgar was nine. She was perfect. They said the only way she would have been a ten is if she came out pooping.

I got what I wished for out of my birth plan. I got drugs and we both didn't die. Success. Victory. Joel is a Dad, and I'm a Mom. From the second the Midwife pushed the emergency button until they placed our perfect baby on my chest, less than five minutes had passed. It seemed like a lot longer than that when you live through it. Those will forever be the most terrifying, harrowing, daunting, exciting, rewarding, and amazing five minutes of our entire lives.

Joel becomes a Daddy

"DO NOT PUSH"

I'm bored. Labor is boring. Now that I'm no longer in pain, I'm freaking bored. The only thing on TV is Law & Order reruns, and to be honest, I'd already seen those episodes. My Mom, Dad and Sister are in and out of the room periodically through the night. We are all just waiting for the show to start. I can't sleep really because I'm too anxious, not to mention, starving. It has been something like 18 hour since I'd last eaten, and that makes a pregnant mama very unhappy. And I'm still mad about the snickerdoodles. I'd of sold my soul for some of those snickerdoodles. Read: Joel is an asshole.

So much goes on outside the delivery room bubble I'm living in. Parents fighting in the waiting room. My family eating food in secret. At one point my Mom went home to let out my dogs and Tripp, my oldest pup, ran away. Thankfully she got him back. All of which I had no clue about. I guess the less I knew about all that the better. So we just wait. All night and into the early morning. Joel naps on and off, I try to but its basically impossible with the constant checking of my vajayjay and having to reposition every hour. I'm in for the fight of my life and the damn nurses won't let me rest up to prepare for it. I'm convinced this is going to kill me. Around 7am or so the nurse checks me again. I'm at 7cm. She tells me we need to speed things up, again. I thought that is what the Pitocin was for, but she has another idea.

Enter the Peanut. It is a peanut shaped birthing ball. The nurse tells me to roll over onto my left side. HA. She's funny. I am literally paralyzed from the waist down. I cannot move. I need help. Enter Mom and Joel. Mom gets on my left side near my head, Joel is on my left at my feet, and the nurse is behind me. I do my best to help them out, and we manage to roll my beached whale sized self onto my side. With my ass hanging out facing the door to my room for all to see, Joel lifts up my right leg, audibly grunts, and the nurse puts the peanut ball between my legs. The idea of this position with this contraption is to help open up my pelvis. That is probably painful, but the Nazi made my night already with his magic juice.

The Peanut Birthing Ball

So we wait some more. Joel has to literally stay at my feet because I even though I couldn't feel a damn thing, In my mind I felt like I was going to fall off the bed. So he had to stay there and keep my legs on the bed and the peanut in place. He was so patient with me and my irrational fears. Here is where I also need to give a shout out to my Mom. She was a real life Carol Brady MOM during this stage of labor. I was increasingly getting more and more anxious about delivering my baby, starting to panic because the nurse told me it wouldn't be much longer. My Mom stood next to me, wiped away my tears, brushed my hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. Her and Joel both kept telling me how proud me they were of me and how it was almost time to meet our baby girl. They both reassured me everything was going to go smoothly. At that moment I remember feeling SO  much love and felt so encouraged by both of them. They made me feel strong when I was feeling so weak and exhausted. I will forever be grateful to them for getting through those last couple hours of labor.

After about an hour of peanut position, all of the sudden I feel like I have to take the biggest shit of my life. The pressure a woman feels when the baby descends is like nothing I can describe. I felt like my hips were being pulled apart with the hooks a butcher uses to carry slabs of meat. Even with the epidural, I feel a ridiculous about of pressure down there, I seriously thought the baby was going to come out of my ass. I can't control the feeling. I panic and yell "I have to push NOW". My Mom and Joel perk up, and panic themselves. My nurse had stepped out of room and was no where to be found.

Simultaneously, Mom and Joel both yell repeatedly "NO, DO NOT PUSH". Joel says "neither of us are equipped to deliver a baby!" My Mom looks at me dead in the eye and in the same voice she used when I'd get in trouble as a kid says "Jennifer Elizabeth, you will not push." Like I have a choice or something. My body is doing whatever it wants at this point and I don't have a damn choice in the matter. Joel yells for the nurse and she pops back in. I am once again rolled onto my back and the nurse checks me. "It's go time, you're at 10cm". I look at my Mom and Joel and say "TOLD YOU." Because I'm mature like that.

I decided that I only wanted Joel in the delivery room. I wanted our daughter to start her life with just her newly appointed Mom and Dad. I wanted my "golden hour" to be just the three of us. So my Mom kissed me on my forehead, told me that I could do this, wished us good luck and left the room. Shit is getting real people. A midwife and a couple other nurses come into my room, shuffle around getting everything ready for the delivery, the midwife puts my concrete legs into the stirrups and we are ready to go. I tell Joel to get a good look at my vajayjay because it will never be the same after all this. I forbid him from looking at my lady parts while I delivered his daughter. I wanted him to remember my vajayjay as it was before and I didn't want him to be scarred for life by seeing what was about to happen down there. I've seen videos. It does not look normal. RIP my vagina.

Our very own Peanut