Childbirth!
I assure you, this isn't going to be a gross and gory one.

Back when Nurse Ratched was knocked up and approximately the size and shape of a Volkswagen, we discussed the various options open to us for childbirth. Being a Modern Father ^TM, I was all in favor of what was called a Birth Place- that is, instead of the standard delivery room with stainless steel and mercury lights, it was very much like a hotel room with linoleum floors and strange things stored in the closets. Instead of a standard obstetrician, we went with a nurse midwife. (The midwife was part of a practice that included an OB/GYN, so it was safe.) We went through Lamaze class and all that, and watched the films of the various couples squeezing out their sprogs like a cinema verite version of Alien.

I discussed all of this with my boss at work, who had been through the process himself. Unfortunately Mike also had something of a weak stomach, especially when it came to blood, so he admitted that during the really graphic part of the films he had averted his eyes and tried to keep from heaving.

The day came when she started leaking and moaning, so we got her to the hospital as planned. It was a very long labor, but it went smoothly enough. When it came time to actually bear down and make noises like Yoko Ono, she was lying propped up on a beanbag chair in a standard double bed. Her left hand had a death grip on my right wrist, and her left heel was against my right shoulder- so my face was only a little over a foot from her mimsy at the critical moment.

Aside from shitting the bed slightly, nothing to out of the ordinary happened- Splinky came out, covered in the usual primordial ooze, then they handed me a rather nasty looking pair of scissors and had me cut the umbilical cord. She then pushed and shoved out what looked like a couple of pounds of liver, then lay back wheezing and let them stitch her mimsy back together while they washed the ooze off of our son.

Now in truth this entire experience didn't bother me or make me queasy at all- I was fine with everything, really. I had managed to smuggle in a couple of St. Pauli darks, so I opened one to celebrate- and as we were both quite hungry, we ordered and ate a pizza with black olives and mushrooms.

When I returned to the office I described it in detail to Mike, sadistically noting the shades of green he was turning as I did so. He held it together, though- up until I mentioned eating pizza.

I don't think Mike ever ate pizza again...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 8 Aug 2008, 15:35, 3 replies)

Click!
For mimsy
(Bel Shamharoth has eight of everything, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 19:03, closed)

From what I remember of my A level biology
Shitting during childbirth is also not out of the ordinary :) Also it should be "nothing toO out of.." but only as your posts are normally impeccable and I like being pedantic.

*Click* Yay for more tales of Nurse Ratched!
( TGB checking Off Topic is still shit at, Mon 11 Aug 2008, 15:22, closed)

My father
sat by and ate fish and chips as my mother was spawning my brother.

Apparently he knew that this would anger her when it came to birthing me. So he brought in some sandwiches instead.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Mon 11 Aug 2008, 15:59, closed)