Some weeks ago two of my loves and I indulged in Corona's, a lot of Corona's. I'm not the biggest drinker so it doesn't really take me much to get drunk but when I'm there you need to strap yourself in... One of the conversations I can't stand having is the conversation mum's have about pregnancy, labour and birth. I don't care how long they were in labour for, I don't care how many stitches they've got nor do I particularly give a shit about how much baby weighed so - the conversation arose with my lovelies and I decided to participate this time.
I excitedly told them that I had right then realised that my children match their labour/deliveries. Both friends looked confused, so then I had to explain...
The Superhero was premature, by the end of labour he was completely exhausted and he didn't have the energy to keep pushing through. I ended up having him vacuumed out. Fast forward to now and my teenaged superhero is always lacking energy and likes his sleep - a lot.
The Slayer's birth was pretty good as far as pushing a baby out your vagina goes. No complications but he certainly made his little way onto my chest for snuggles and that's exactly how he remains - snuggly. He's my Mumma's Boy.
Then there is the birthday thief, her birth was wild and crazy. She was born on my birthday, the midwife and I argued that she was coming. Midwife insisted I was only 4cm dilated and had hours, I insisted I had done this before and she's on her way out. I was right, she was wrong and literally ONE MINUTE later my girl baby was born. That's my girl, she steals the limelight and is wild and crazy.