I Love You, but I Want To Kill You

****************I am linking this to Travis' Memoir Monday! Go visit him and the others. They are a hoot. Really. ******************
Hubs and I spent the weekend installing our new kitchen cabinets.

Yes.

We are still married despite this.

Even though there were a few challenges like mismeasurements and oddly placed electrical outlets, we survived them and each other.

Not bad.

Not bad at all, I say.

After all, we have definitely been through worse. In fact, six years ago this week, my lovely Ethan was born, and it was a miracle that hubby survived that one.

A miracle, I tell you.

Since Ethan is our second child, we were much more relaxed going into the laboring process. In fact, when my obstetrician recommended I meet him at the hospital after one of my weekly appointments, I did not panic. Instead, I agreed, and immediately called hubs. Being that it was May and we were having beautiful spring weather, he was at the golf course.

"Honey, are you ready?" I asked.

"For what?"he replied.

"Ummm. The baby?" I reminded him.

"The baby?!?" he excitedly repeated. "When?"

"Well, I am supposed to go over to the hospital this evening because my blood pressure was up," I explained.

Then, there was an uncomfortable pause. "Oh, " he said, and I knew what was coming. "Well considering how long your last labor was, do you think I can finish golfing before I go to the hospital?"

So, there you have it. I was about to give birth to our second child, and the man wanted to finish his golf round. Par for the course, of course.

Truthfully, I didn't mind that he wanted to golf. He is not the most patient of men when it comes to waiting, and laboring with child usually involves lots and lots of waiting. So, he met me at the hospital when I was already 5 centimeters. I received my epidural and was feeling quite fabulous. (Thank you God for anesthesiologists and epidurals. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!)

A few hours later, it was time to push, and push I did. Hubs assumed his position next to me and coached me by counting to 10 over and over. All was going well, until I began to feel something . . . and that something was pain. Intense pain. Fire in my crotch pain. Base on my past experience, I knew that something was not right.

"This HURTS!!" I yelled.

The nurse tried to reassure me with, "Of course it hurts. We want to make sure that you can feel enough to be able to push, but the epidural should be taking the brunt of the pain away."

I nodded, turning red and tried to remain calm. "I know that it is supposed to hurt a little, even with an epidural, but THIS REALLY HURTS!"

Hubs tried to reassure me, "Honey, you can do this! Just like last time, focus and push!"

I interrupted him enough to yell, "This is NOT like last time! THIS HURTS LIKE HELL! SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING!!!"

The nurse paused and checked the epidural monitor, "You are at your maximum level for meds. You just need to relax."

I was infuriated. No one was listening to me, my hoo-ha was burning like a hot poker, and the last thing on my mind was relaxing. In fact, I felt like killing someone.

It was then that a look of terror washed over hub's face. I knew that he knew something and, that that something wasn't good.

"What?! What?! What?!" I screamed.

He said nothing, but instead bent over, and with shame, he picked up my epidural line off of the floor.

Yes. That's right. Hubs had pulled my epidural line out of my back. While I was in labor. WITH HIS CHILD. I wanted to strangle him right then and there with that very line. I really did.

Apparently, during all of my pushing and breathing and his intense coaching, he had inadvertently stepped on my epidural line and disconnected it from the catheter in my back. Consequently, I had been receiving none of the glorious and wonderful painkillers that I loved. By no choice of my own, I was laboring with my baby au naturale. Not fun my friends. Not fun at all!

And . . . I was legitimately in PAIN!

As hubs tried to apologize over and over, I kept screaming at the nurse to "Putitbackin! PUTITBACKIN!! NOW!"

Unfortunately, I quickly found out that although she reconnected the line, my baby was crowning and minutes later, I delivered all 9 pounds and 1 ounce of baby Ethan without the benefit of epidural.

All because hubs screwed up.

Moral of the story . . .
If we are still married after that, we can survive anything.