When I was pregnant with Joel, I was scheduled to be induced on a Sunday because I supposedly had gestational diabetes and my 3rd sonogram showed I was going to have one huge baby.
Like a good suck-up, on Saturday I made a cake to take to the hospital for the nurses and doctors to have post-birth. Aron painted my toenails. My legs were shaved, and I had showered that day. THANKFULLY I was not induced and went into labor naturally Saturday afternoon. I took the cake with me.
They told me I was one of their most polite laboring women. They would make me change positions to push, and I’d say THANK YOU. I didn’t cuss once. I was very cordial. They enjoyed the cake, but lost my damn cake pan.
Now I’m on my 5th baby, and I don’t care what my toenails look like. I don’t care if I’ve showered. I’ll probably drop some F-bombs at my doula the mean nurse who gives me a baggie to puke in versus giving me IV meds for nausea.
And I’m thinking the hairier the better on my legs since Aron and the doula will need traction for when they are holding my legs back when I push (I’m a primadonna and for some reason can’t make myself hold my own legs over my own ears to push my baby out). Besides, it gets harder and harder to shave sitting down in a shower that’s as big as a shoebox.
I’ll have to let you know how it goes. Below is a bonus pic for you from when I was in labor with Eva and I had my dad and husband looking all freaked out!