Seven years ago today

• I was suffering from the effects of having to drink the equivalent of an entire Big Gulp every hour I was awake for the previous day, in an effort to combat a problem which it turns out I didn't even have.  My bladder would like to thank you for that experience, Ms. Incompetent Sonogram Technician.
• I was worried about the fact that my baby's head was measuring several weeks "younger" than it was supposed to on the sonogram, which probably meant that the 0.25 ounces of bourbon I drank before I realized I was pregnant had seriously stunted my kid's growth and I might as well start looking into group homes for her for later in life.  Thank you again, Ms. Useless Sonogram Technician.
• I was having to decide whether to go ahead and induce delivery early just in case Ms. Incompetent Sonogram Technician was actually correct and the baby was potentially in danger if she stayed in much longer.  Bitch.
• I was calling Jason out of important meetings so we could go have a baby two weeks early.
• I was so petrified I was going to fuck something up that I couldn't eat my lunch before I went to the hospital, even though I knew they wouldn't let me eat once I was admitted.
• I was pissed I had to go on an IV right away - I had planned to work on my cross-stitch sampler project while waiting for the drugs to kick in, but I couldn't hold the needle or the hoop comfortably with the IV hanging out the back of my hand.
• Don't even get me started on the whole "Big Gulps in the morning + insane volumes of IV fluids in the afternoon = 14,000 trips to the bathroom while hugely pregnant and dragging an IV pole and fetal heart monitor around with me" situation.
• Or the fact that they wanted to monitor my output, so I had to pee in a cup.  I did crack the nurse up when I asked her what she wanted me to do once I filled up the liter cup in one sitting - dump and keep measuring, or just record it as 1000+ ml?
• I was pissed that I was missing the premier of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which I had planned to go see that evening, and which I had been anticipating for months in advance.  Turns out, when I finally saw it a year later on Netflix, it kinda sucked anyway.
• I was so bored while I was waiting for the drugs to do ANYTHING that I had Jason read the newspaper crossword puzzle clues to me and write my answers in for me, because trying to write with the &$(*$(&$)ing IV in my hand wasn't fun.
• I was trying to be brave for so long that the anesthesiologist was halfway home and had to drive back to the hospital to put in my spinal.
• I was trying (and failing) to remember to roll over every so often so the anesthesia didn't settle on one side of my body.  Whoops.  Took hours to regain any feeling in one of my legs after the delivery.  Seriously - the thing was like having a telephone pole surgically attached to my waist, it was that unresponsive.
• I was shivering uncontrollably no matter how many blankets they put on me, because apparently my body interprets "loss of feeling" as "oh my god we're stuck in a snowdrift and going to freeze to death if I don't vibrate like a tuning fork for hours on end."
• I was inexplicably afraid of getting a catheter put in.  Rip a giant melon-sized head out of my hoohah? No problem!  Shove a tiny tube in my peepee? GAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA.  And then after they put it in, I was all - Wait, I don't have to waddle over to the bathroom and pee in a pitcher anymore?  Bonus!  And the nurse was all - Better get another bag, this one's full already.
• I was bitching about how Nothing Was Happening For Three Hours, other than the peeing and the leg turning into wood and the shivering.  The nursing shift changed, and the new nurses checked on me, and told me to let them know if anything changed, and then went to look in on other patients.  
• It finally occurred to me an hour later that the vague feeling of fullness "down there" might be worth mentioning to the nurses next time they swung through.  Yeah, right, she said, and she took a peek, and her eyes got really wide, and she said, DON'T PUSH, I'll go get the doctor.  Apparently what felt sort of like a tampon that was about to fall out was actually my kid about to fall out.  Who knew?
• Push - Push - Push - there's your kid.  And the last one didn't actually count because I was laughing while I did it.
• I was entertaining the doctor while she stitched me back up, with an impression of the look on the nurse's face when she checked on my progress.
• I was trying not to be disappointed when the baby scored only 9 out of a possible 10 on the APGAR test. Don't get used to underachieving, kiddo.
• Telling Jason that Wendy's was still open, and since I knew he didn't get me a push present he'd damn well better go get me a fruit salad before the closed - seriously, get out the door and get me some food, goddammit.  The baby will still be here when you get back in 20 minutes.
• I was just beginning to experience a seemingly endless parade of nurses and lactation consultants and pediatricians and obstetricians and random people they found in the hallway who wanted to poke around at my boobs and tell me what the baby (or I) was doing wrong with nursing.
• Not yet aware that the nameless nurse who showed me Saturday night that newborns are actually able to drink from a (tiny) cup would be my Personal Savior and Bringer of Hope that the Kid Won't Starve to Death Before Monday.
• Never so happy as when the hospital confirmed that babies aren't allowed to sleep in their mother's rooms at night, they have to go back to the nursery.  Oh, thank you lord, for this 45-minute break between when the nurses are waking me up to check my vital signs, and when the baby wakes up screaming because she's super pissed that we broke her out two weeks ahead of schedule.
• Trying not to notice that the leftover umbilical cord hanging off of the front of my kid looked exactly like a used condom.  Trying not to make jokes about "Gee, I wonder where she picked that up, har har har."
• Admiring what I made.

And today?  Still admiring what I made, and the smart, fearless, funny, interesting, beautiful girl she's becoming.

Happy seventh birthday, Liza Bear.