Brag book

Ahem. Excuse me while I brag for a moment. I’M AN AUNTIE !!!!!!!!11!ZOMG!!!TIMESAGAZILLION!

So obviously, my little sister had her baby. My nephew, Mark*, was born on September 29, 2010 at 3:16 in the afternoon, and OH MY GOD, he’s the cutest nephew I could ever hope for. Funnily enough, the journey to his entrance into this world is best told through the flurry of texts exchanged between various family members.


12:15 AM, from my brother in-law, Paul*: Contractions are 6 minutes apart, this might be the night.

12:16, to Paul: WHAT??? What’s going on?

12:17,  to my little sister, Jessica*: Are you okay? What’s going on? (As if I didn’t know and vividly remember what a c-o-n-t-r-a-c-t-i-o-n was and how much they sucked.)

12:19, Jessica: I don’t know yet.

12:22, Chelsie: Are your contractions painful?

12:25, Jessica: Um, fairly. (What she really meant was: No shit, Sherlock. I’m trying to evict a fricking human being from my womb.)

12:27, Chelsie: Call Mom. Get to the hospital. GO NOW.

12:35, Jessica: We’re already there. I don’t know if they’re admitting me yet.

(Dialing frantically, telling then waiting for an answer) ANSWER THE DAMN PHO–

Paul: Hey, Chels.

Chelsie: Do I need to come down there? Seriously, I can be there in like 5 minutes. I’ll fucking fly if I have to.

Paul: No, calm down. The nurse who checked he said she was only at a 3, and now they’re waiting to see if she’s making an progress. We’ll let you know when something comes up.

Chelsie: Okay. Tell Jessica I love her, and call me as soon as you need something. (Hangs up.)

1:18, to Jessica: Any news? (At this point, I was pretty sure Paul, who is pretty straight-laced and conservative, will be the one texting me back because he doesn’t want me bothering Jessica any more.)

1:19, from Jessica’s number: No, no one has come in yet. WHAT THE FUCK. It hurts. Where the hell is everyone?

(Nope, it’s definitely Jessica. Heh.)

1:20, Chelsie: Do you want me to come down there and whoop some ass? I will. I can take on one of those scrub wearing pussies and get you some answers.

1:21, Jessica: This sucks.

1:23, Chelsie: Tell Paul to go find one of those lazy ass nurses so you can get some goddamn DRUGS.

1:25, Jessica: Who knows what’s going on here. I hope they didn’t do this to you.

1:44, Jessica: Paul got someone. Still a 3, now we’re waiting on the on the on call doc.

2:33, Jessica: They’re letting me go home.

2:34, Chelsie: WHAT!!! Are they fucking nuts?

2:35, Jessica: Doc says there’s no need for me to stay since my cervix isn’t changing.

2:26, Chelsie: Okay… Call me if you end up going back. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. Love you.

What I really wanted to say was, “Clearly your doctor is a sadist and he enjoys seeing pregnant ladies in pain,” but the tact filter between my brain and my texting fingers kicked in and I kept that little gem to myself. At that point, I fell into bed and tried to get a little sleep, only to have the weirdest dreams of my life. In my dream, I didn’t know I was pregnant, and I delivered a baby whilst squatting over that bathroom sink. The baby looked like Mr. Krabs from SpongeBob.

Um, yeah. Either I need to stop watching SpongeBob with Boo, or my subconscious is telling me my next child will be born with flippers.


6:46, from my dad: We are here with Jessica at the hospital and she’s at 6 cm’s so today is the day! Do not call as she is crabby but doing fine.

6:54, Chelsie: Give me twenty minutes to pee and brush my hair and I’ll be there.

6:56, from my mom: Bring coffee and makeup.


Half an hour later, I arrived on the third floor of the Women’s Center, a to-go carrier of coffee from Sweetbay in one hand and a WalMart bag full of breast pump parts swinging from the opposite elbow. My dad met me at the elevators and just looked at me. He was visibly shaken.

“It’s like the Exorcist in there. Don’t go in unless you’re prepared to get yelled at in a foreign language.”

“Don’t worry, Dad,” I said as I strode off, trusting my excellent hearing to lead me to the room where all the swearing was coming from appropriate room. “This is a Catholic hospital. I’ll just rip the crucifix off the wall if I need protection.” I could tell Dad didn’t think that was as amusing as I did, but then again, I like to think that our Lord and Savior appreciates a little crucifixion humor.


About thirty seconds later, I came bolting back out of the double doors leading to the L&D ward. My dad just raised his shoulders and looked at me like, “Told ya so.” In the brief second after I opened the door to the delivery room, I saw the glint of a seven inch needle being guided into Jessica’s back before she turned to me, hissing like an angry, wet cat.

Or an angry cat with a fucking needle in it’s back. Or a woman having a contraction whilst simultaneously fighting the urge to punch the well-intentioned nurse holding her still right in the mother effing schnoz.

We waited in the lobby until the all clear bell sounded. By that time, the medicine had kicked in and Jessica was in a much better mood. People around her could actually talk without having to worry about having their heads ripped off and thrown out into the parking lot below.

And then we waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally, as the afternoon was sliding into evening, my mom came into the lobby and told us Mark had made his long awaited appearance, and we got to see him for the first time in a grainy cell phone picture she had snapped right after the nurses rinsed the gore from his face.

I’m not going to lie; I bawled like a little baby.

By the time I got to go back into the delivery room, Jessica was feeling well enough to sit up and start asking for something to eat. Except asking is a little bit of an understatement. At one point, she gave my brother (her twin) a look that said, “If you don’t go get me some fucking ice cream RIGHT NOW, your firstborn child will come out with a TAIL.”

I was there in the room while Mark get his first bath, and laughed like an idiot when he got righteously pissed off when the water splashed on his face. He’s got a temper, that’s for sure.

I’ve already fallen under his spell, and he’s only been in this mean, cold world for about 30 hours.

I love you, little man. I’m so happy to be your aunt.

*Names changed, of course.


About Chelsie

Mommy. Beauty product whore. Plastic lawn flamingo enthusiast. Nosy neighbor. One day novelist.
This entry was posted in Family. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Brag book

  1. Brooke Perceful says:

    Please tell “Jessica” I said congratulations!

  2. Pat Smith says:

    Girl, you DO have a way with words!!! I could just see and hear “Jessica”…and your dad!

  3. Michelle says:

    He’s a cutie. And my GOD, he has a crazy amount of hair. Also, the text messages made me laugh. “Bring makeup and coffee.” I love your mom.

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