Award Winning Baby Name

Sometimes I am sorry I asked.

Meconium Phoenix (Phoenix was probably spelled Fenyx but whatever)

For those of you that don't know:

Meconium- is the first stool of an infant, composed of materials ingested during the time the infant spends in the uterus: Intestinal epithelial cells, lanugo, mucus, amniotic fluid, bile, and water.

Kill me now.

A couple of years ago when I got a new computer I also bought a flash drive to back up all my files and transfer them to the new computer. I did not discriminate but just downloaded everything, including some photos that were later deleted off my computer because no one needs to see them (if you catch my drift). I never used that flash drive again and haven't seen it in over a year.

I just got a call from my boss that this flash drive was found in a classroom and IT had opened it and identified it as mine. She kept apologizing. I can see why. Apparently my husband found and used it for a presentation he gave at the hospital I work at last week and then left it in the classroom there.

I might never go back to work.

Signs you may be too young.

Here is my compiled experience on signs that you may be too young to be having a baby. I realize that by the time they get to me it is way too late but I still have an opinion.

Possible signs you are too young to have a baby:
- You are still giggling when I tell you I have to check your cervix
- You bring your blankie and are more concerned about not getting it dirty than anything else
- You are still using random slang like "kitty box" for your girl parts in public

Probable signs you are too young to have a baby:
- Your mother, grandmother, and great grandmother are all present for delivery
- You show up holding your own personal Teletubby doll you owned as a toddler
- Your reason for not breastfeeding includes fear of lactating through your gown for your formal

Definite signs you are too young to have a baby:
- You ask for a school excuse from L&D
- You have to ask your mom's permission to get an epidural

and, my all time jaw dropper:
- when asked for your insurance card and photo id you pull out your year book opened to the page with your picture.

Happy Thanksgiving

While I was at work last night I got a whole new perspective as I had a chance to ponder some things I am thankful for.

I am thankful neither myself, my husband or any child of mine is addicted to crack.

I am thankful I do not have an overbearing and demanding mother than controls my every move.

I am thankful I don't have to carry a list of people who are not allowed anywhere near me everywhere I go.

I am thankful my husband has never thrown a television at me during an argument.

I am thankful I have never been traumatized to the point I can't take of my panties to have a baby. (I don't know the answer to the obvious question here.)

Most of all, I am thankful that after all that, because trust me, it's a lot to deal with in 12 hours, I still have my sanity.

Vacation

I wanted to let everyone know that tomorrow night my much enjoyed six day leave of absence will be over. It came just in time to allow me to recover (mostly mentally) from a blow to the face I took from what was quite possibly "World's Worst Patient". Please look forward to many more stories of insanity, despite the fact that I am praying for a quiet Thanksgiving night.

Private Practice

Thank God it was slow enough on the floor last night that I could enjoy watching Private Practice with some of my OB colleagues because it just wouldn't have been the same alone. One of the midwives said that when they started the show were consulting with a midwife but they ditched her to find someone less educated. It would seem they abandoned the idea of consulting anyone at all because I am pretty sure that Google would give you better instructions on how to reduce a shoulder "dis-ty-shea". In fact, I think I might test this theory in a moment but it really doesn't take a physicist to realize that you can hardly get your hands in someones vagina while she is sitting straight up with her crotch to the ground, never mind that the obvious first step would be to lay her down anyway.

Also, we are all in agreement that there is no way in hell any of us (even the most touchy-feely naturalist midwife up there) would jump in the tub with a woman about to deliver, short of a life threatening emergency. She couldn't hold it in forever. And why the hell did she take her gloves off?

Finally, I would like to thank ABC for the women that piddled in the rest of the night with mild contractions 10-20 minutes apart thinking that delivery was immanent. I will be watching my paycheck for compensation.

Token weird person of the night.

By 4 am I had gotten my patient delivered and out to the post partum unit. While usually this is a bad set up for getting to take care of the next weirdo that walks through the door I was too far into my fantasy about my upcoming breakfast of Eggo's and Ambien to care.

My fantasy was disturbed by a girl being brought through the door in a wheelchair by the ER staff (gotta love them). She doesn't look pregnant at all.

"Ma'am, how many weeks pregnant are you?"

"20"

"And what brought you to the hospital tonight?"

"My baby is having a seizure inside of me."

Congratulations. That's called fetal movement. I have a Benadryl that can fix that though.

Who's your daddy?

Here's some more baby daddy drama for you.

A fairly young girl comes into L&D (think born in the 90's) with her mom and two possible father's of the baby to deliver. The girl is a little blond thing and both guys are black. I will call them Grill, and Red Shorts (RS for for short).

All through the girl's labor RS is right by her side, being very supportive. In the meantime, Grill is sulking in a chair in the corner. The girls mom makes a point of mentioning that she hopes the baby belongs to RS about every 10 minutes. Grill doesn't look happy at all.

Finally, the baby arrives and lets just say that it was obvious to all the staff that this little fair blond hair baby didn't belong to either of the guys. The new grandmother can't stop gushing on and on about how much the child looks like RS and how she just knew it would be his.

Now Grill is pissed. He gets in a huge shouting match with grandma that she doesn't know what the hell she is talking about. He is screaming that the baby doesn't belong to RS and she is obviously blind. In my mind I am slightly relieved that at least he has seen the light and pondering whether or not I need to call security. Luckily he saves me the trouble and storms out of the room.

Fast forward about an hour and a half to when I have returned from taking the baby to the nursery. I go in to check on the new mom and there is Grill, in the labor bed, spooning her (please don't make me get in to how icky that is) and telling her that he knows the baby is really his.

I guess he must have failed his genetics test too.

We don't want an epidural.

Excuse me? "We" is not an option for an epidural. Your wife is allowed to not want an epidural but not "we". In addition, if you tell me one more time that "we" don't want an epidural while the woman birthing your child moans in pain and looks at me with big begging eyes I may have to insert and watermelon in the only logical place so that "we" can make an informed decision.

Weekly Schedule

It is amazing how a simple trip to the hospital can halt labor. I think any L&D nurse out there would agree that it is amazing how many women that are having contractions that are 2-3 minutes apart at home and in the car suddenly slow down to every 10-15 minutes or stop contracting all together once they get to the hospital. I have noticed that once we get a story out of them, the reason for the "labor check" seems to run on the following schedule:

Sunday- Their significant other has been watching football (or another sport) all weekend and they are severely lacking attention. A trip to the hospital can fix this.

Monday- Isn't it obvious? Someone had already resigned to the fact that she couldn't face another work week.

Tuesday- Leftovers from Monday who made it in that one day and couldn't go on.

Wednesday- These are the girls that were checked in the office Monday or Tuesday. Even though they were told some spotting is normal after a cervical exam they are pretty sure the world is coming to an end.

Thursday- It's poker night. Enough said.

Friday- Similar to Thursday. The significant other is on their way out of town for their last weekend out with the guys and she needs to find a way to get him to stay home. These girls are usually not even term but they will give it a good shot anyway.

Saturday- The whole family came into town because she was due that week and they need to see a baby before they leave damn it.

Scattered in this are the women who have previously delivered a pre-term baby. Once they reach that magic number of weeks they delivered at before they decide they are done being pregnant and start showing up frequently thinking they are in labor.

Oldies but goodies.

Way back in the day, when I was a mere volunteer in a city far, far a way there was a 5 foot tall, 500 pound woman that the doctors referred to as "old half ton" upstairs. Don't shoot the messenger.

Anyway, this lady was being kept in the hospital on bed rest for reason that I can only imagine now were complications that were somehow related to her being so large. One fine day, it comes time for her to deliver by C-section and due to my "awesome" connections, I had the pleasure of watching.

After a long prep of taping this woman's fat folds up to the top of the table, to expose the proper area and hunting down stools for the doctors to stand on so that they could actually see what they were doing the surgery began.

There were all sorts of people with their hands in there retracting skin in attempts to be helpful and and yet it was apparently not enough because shortly after the start of the proceedure we all heard.

"Ouch! Oh shit!"

The doctor with the scaple still couldn't see well enough thorugh all the fat everywhere and he cut one of the other doctors helping. To everyone's horror, the next words out of his mouth were:

"Oh hell no! If this fat bitch has any diseases I swear I am going to kill someone."

Um doc, she only has a spinal, she's not unconscious.

The lesson: choose your doctor wisely.

More to come on consequences of choosing the wrong doc later.