Thursday, September 28, 2006

A Pregnancy story from our contest

Our thanks to Agnes and many others who have been writing us their funny pregnancy stories. keep them coming for a chance to win $100 at We will announce the winner in October. Write to http://URL.

The humorous version of my daughter’s birth story
by Agnes Eva Savich

At 38 weeks preggo, I went with my husband Scott to see comedian Ralphie May perform. I laughed for two hours straight, bounce-bounce-bouncing baby's head down onto my cervix, until I started to feel mild contractions. On my way out I shook Ralphie’s hand and joked, “That was so hilarious, I think you actually made me go into labor.”

When I went to bed that night, a definite rhythm had emerged: lower whale-body onto bed, heave belly over body pillow, close eyes, spring awake 30 minutes later, hoist self to bathroom, peeeeeeeeee, waddle back to bed, lower whale-body…

By noon the next day I called my midwife Sandra, all ready to head down to the birth center. To my surprise, I was told to drink some beer, take a Benadryl and lie down, for I was surely in false labor. I dutifully obeyed this bewildering combination of orders, and indeed slept a couple hours.

All night my contractions picked up intensity. My poor husband got the punching bag end of my pain, until I was encouraged to squeeze his shoulder instead. Somehow I made it to morning and called Sandra again.

It’s just prodromal labor,” she said, “ignore it and go about your day as usual.”

I hung up thinking, “Dromedaries? What does my labor have to do with camels? And ignore this pain, is she kidding?”

Now it was Scott’s football worshipping Sunday, so I glommed onto the couch with him. My contractions were synced up with the tackles. The crash of the football players' bodies into each other helped me deal with the pain. Slam! Oh you think THAT hurt, buddy, at least the football isn’t trying to come out of your butt!

Sandra finally conceded to let me come to the birth center at 9pm so she could check me and “probably send me back home.” It’s a testament to my insanity that I changed the time to 9:15pm, so I could finish watching Desperate Housewives.

Upon arrival, I was 4cm dilated. “Touchdown!,” I felt like yelling. Scott returned home, because of course we hadn’t yet installed the car seat, or brought my ridiculously overpacked suitcase from which I only used two candles and choked down one Fruit Leather. Did I mention he took the time to shave and chat online with some buddies before returning? Ok, it was only to tell them I’m in labor but he was gone for, like, hours. (Later he told me, “Do you know how convoluted those car seat instructions are!!??”)

Upon returning, he filmed some of the labor, so I could hear my lovely whale mating calls for posterity: “NGuuuuuuuuuuuh. NNNNgggguuuuuuuhhhhhh.” I remember at one point feeling like a feral animal, gasping out, “Hair. Off. Face,” then clawing Scott’s fumbled attempts with the rubber band into my own hands after the contraction subsided.

The light at the end of the tunnel was the moment my daughter’s head popped out. Like a little alien peering in from a rift in time-space, she fully opened her eyes and just hung out there, half born, surveying everyone poised for her birth. Then the final contraction came, a sensation I completely blocked from memory, because the next thing I knew was her floppy little smooth body being handed up to me. I just started gushing “I love you” to her, Scott, Sandra, the assistant. Only the remaining task of delivering the placenta kept me from declaring my love to the inanimate objects in the room. Labor had begun with laughter, and ended with total joy.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Holy cr#%! I'm a Soccer Parent!

Let me start by saying that I do not drive a mini-van. Now I feel better.
For the last 4 weeks I have been, searching the entire house for cleats, shin guards, socks, shorts, and water bottles. I have spent an entire afternoon creating and ironing on jersey numbers and logos. A sweet thunderbolt if you must know.

I spend the week driving my son and daughter to separate practice and match play fields. I cut oranges into slices for 7 to 11 children. I have never cut an orange into slices. I just like to peel them.

I carry folding chairs in the car at all times. I juggle schedules with my spouse so that our children can make every practice and game. I even let myself get talked into coaching this sport that I know absolutely nothing about.

Damn the World Cup. Who knew that watching a few matches would create a passion for sport in my children.

Saturday I witnessed my daughter break out of the amoeba of children surrounding the ball, and dribble it the length of the field and stuff it in for a goal. She thrust her hands up, and all the girls did cartwheels and jumped for joy. It didn't even matter that the other team was up by at least 17 goals.

I am ridiculously proud of my children, and would gladly drive to Cheyenne from Denver every day, with a giant bag of orange slices and my folding chairs, to witness my children jump for joy.

Monday, September 25, 2006

Fashion Success!

Our Thanks to everyone who helped make our 2nd Fall Fashion preview a success! With the help of our community in the Denver Highlands we managed to raise a lot of money for the Kempe Foundation. Plus we had a lot of fun doing it. A sincere thank you to Kelly and Laura from Real Baby , and all the merchants for making it all happen.

Swimclub 32. Kempe Foundation
Frolic, Dragonfly, Max, Barareeba, Kismet, Studio Bead, Swank Space, The Perfect Petal Skin Chic The Parlour and Real Baby