There is no place for modesty in motherhood

I was raised in one of those Irish-Catholic families... yes, my parents are right off the boat from Ireland (or as my father would correct me.... right off of a 747). And as such, we were raised in a fairly strict fashion -- which included what would probably be considered an extreme sense of modesty. Growing up, my friends often teased me about this modesty, but.... it's there -- it's just the way I am..... whatever!

Well, it seems that modesty is just not a factor once you embark on the adventure known as motherhood. From that first OB/GYN apt, you quickly learn that you will be on display for all the world to see, and you may as well just get used to it. Yes, I know most women wisely go for their annual check-up and it's probably a fairly invasive experience -- but..... having a baby is a whole different kettle of fish.

To begin with.... nobody ever tells you that the first ultrasound isn't like the ones you see on TV. Being the rookie that I was, I was all ready for the doctor to lube up one of those paddles and go to town on my somewhat flat tummy.... but no, I was only 8 weeks along at that point so the ultrasound was administered using a very different instrument -- thank God the doctor wasn't focused on my face, as I'm sure the look of shock was probably quite evident. The next ultrasound was the kind you see on TV, but..... the Big Dubya was with me.... nobody'd ever come to one of these appointments with me before.... very odd experience.

Because I delivered the 'lil man a month or so early, I never had to endure the "exams" that occur toward the end of a full-term pregnancy.... but, don't think I missed out on all the fun.... the emergency c-section was quite a trip! First, the room is full of nurses, doctors, technicians, the Big Dubya -- and the patient (in this case me) is just lying there being poked, prodded, stuck with needles and hooked up to machines...... all the while people are rushing around. Thank God I was totally drugged-up, otherwise I would have been completely mortified.... just lying there... an almost totally naked beached whale.

After the delivery.... things don't get much better for our heroine.... as she needs assistance attending to the simplest, most basic of her hygiene needs. After a day or so, a nurse asked me if I planned on breast-feeding.... well, yeah I had -- but, maybe you haven't heard, my baby was taken to a hospital 30 miles away and I'm stuck here! She then asks if my milk has "come-in"? Well gee, I dunno.... I think so.... she then proceeds to reach under my gown and gropes me... grabs a whole handful of boob -- oh yeah, your milk's coming in just fine -- I'll get you a pump. Huh? You can just do that?

Lucky for me, my in-laws came to visit.... and during their visit one nurse came in and asked how the pumping went IN FRONT OF MY FATHER-IN-LAW!!! Another nurse came in to examine my incision.... just whips down the covers to check it out..... GREEAAATTT! How'd you like the show Mr Bigger Dubya? Was that as fun for you as it was for me? I've never seen man run to look out a window so fast! Apparently Mr Bigger Dubya ascribes to my brand of modesty too.

After a while, this cavalier attitude toward my modesty started to rub off...the Big Dubya started chatting to the nurses about breast feeding, pumping production..... and then I heard him on the phone with people discussing the fact that the 'lil man preferred the left side to the right UMMMM HELLO!!!! I'm not sure he quite understood why all this candor might make me a bit uncomfortable.... and why I might like to introduce a bit of discretion back into our lives, but once the crying started he figured it out pretty damn quick and dialed it down a bit.

Today's Holiday Viewing Guide:
ABC Family
7:00 Nestor, the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey
7:30 The Leprechaun's Christmas Gold
8:00 Santa Claus is Coming to Town
9:00 The Year Without a Santa Claus