A Tale of Helga- I Gave Birth to Goliath

Sorry for the absence, but I have been running a circus over at my house trying to figure out how to take care of three kids 4 and under. In case you have not heard…

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I did it. I gave birth to my beautiful not-so-little boy.

Hayden Blaine entered the world on June 25, 2017… weighing in at 10 pounds 3 ounces and a whopping 23 inches. The first measurement was 24 inches, but the midwife had the nurse measure again because… no way.

His head and chest measured in at 16 inches, and I was informed that apparently the average head is 13/14 inches and chest 12/13. Suffice to say Hayden is a big boy.

I was kept blissfully (sorta) unaware of the fact that my large, posterior (sunny side up) baby was quite the topic in the hallways while I was attempting to birth him. It was a long, hard labor. I had a nurse who fought successfully to keep me from a c-section (God bless her), and many bets were made about how big this kid was. The midwife would come in, feel my belly, and look at me with a look of pity. “Big boy” was a common comment.

When my water broke the nurse said she didn’t need towels.. she needed blankets.

So ya… with a ton of fluid and a goliath baby… upon entry to the hospital I was pretty much as big as a house.

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At 34 weeks they knew he was 7 pounds. For most ladies, this size would garner a discussion about induction.

Not for me.

Nope.

Not this delicate flower.

I am a viking woman.

Apparently, the doctor saw that these Scandinavian hips were made to carry life.

Push out a 11 lb baby?

Psh.. look at her.. she can do it.

I am Helga. Hear me roar.

An interesting thing happens when you give birth to a child the size of the average two month old. Somehow the social etiquette of strangers asking about your lady parts goes away. Once I reveal how big he was, I can see their eyes shift downwards and start to burn as they begin to internally process the moral quandary about whether or not it is appropriate to ask about what went on down there.

Ya I basically gave birth to the average can of paint or a large house cat.. how do you think it went?

When I was at my oldest son’s 4 year check up the doctor asked me how old my baby was:

Me: “A month.”

Doctor: “Wow. Wow. How big was he?”

Me: “10 lbs 3 oz and 23 in”

Doctor with big eyes: ” Oh wow… did you.. did you.. you know?”

Me: “Give birth naturally?”

Doctor: ” Um ya?’ *Stares at newborn baby the size of a 3 month old*

Me: “Yup”

Silence.

Silence.

Awkward. Silence.

Doctor: ” Oh wow. Well… I guess the other two just paved the way for him.”

Sure lady. Thank you for that. You know I could probably birth a teenager by the fourth baby.

And you can just duplicate this conversation over and over with other strangers, but add in some V tearing questions.

I mean I do not think it is completely normal for complete strangers to ask the state of your lady parts… or to have concern for their recovery… but hey.. maybe I will start being awkward too.

“Oh ya… we are all good… the next baby will probably just fall out.”

“I turned down stitches because I plan on giving birth to twins on the next go and pushing them out at the same time.”

“How am I doing? Pretty good, but you should ask my husband.”

Ok. Ok. I will stop.

We love our Hayden Bug. He was worth it all.

I also really love this blog and love to write. Feel free to add some suggestions as to what I should write about or any suggestions for this space. I want to create a space for dialogue about being a woman, a mother, a wife… with humor, laughter, and love. I would so appreciate your help in getting there!

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PHOTOS COURTESY OF ANGIE KLEIN OF REELS OF JOY PHOTOGRAPHY

 

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