Baby #2- The Birth Blog- Who The Hell is Braxton Hicks? (Part 1 of 3)

Well, it has been almost two years since I last used my keyboard to do anything productive (unless online shopping and researching toddler YouTube videos counts).  Alas, here we are. My wife has been nagging asking me for some time to document the birth of our second child. Here I am, now a father to two beautiful baby girls who look like they were born to two completely different parents attempting to recall the exact point in time where what little free time we ever had completely vanished in to thin air.

Yes, Colleen and I now find ourselves asking the age old question…how in the fuck did we ever complain about “how hard it is” with just one kid?! This really makes me appreciate Jon Gosselin more than ever. That man truly was a national treasure.



Still not too sure how the human body does this. Terrifying.

Anyways, steering back on track, for those who have not read my previous blog on the birth of our now two-year old daughter Squishy, you can do so right here. I will warn those of you that are familiar with that story that this one was not nearly as much of a clusterfuck. There was no flooded kitchen and no midwife fainting in my wife’s nether regions. There was however a water birth at home, a pool malfunction, poop, and the standard blood bath just to name a few of the elements at play. So without further adieu….

Here are some quick background facts on this birth to cut out some of the back-story this time around:

• As with the first gremlin, we were planning for a drug-free home birth.
• The plan was to again have a water birth.
• There would be midwives and a doula involved again. I resisted against paying for a doula, but as with most arguments, I lost.
• We knew we were having a girl but there was no “gender reveal party” this time. We kept it a surprise for just about everyone. Everyone, except for the 10 or so people that I accidentally slipped in a “she” too when discussing our unborn child. Dad fail. In addition, writing the words “gender reveal party” makes me feel like less of a man so hopefully I never have to do it again.
• Fake names have been given to the midwives and doula. Bonus points if you can figure out what television program/movie the three names come from.

October 13, 2018 started out like any other day….the birds were chirping; our almost 2-year-old daughter Squishy was demanding us to put on an endless loop of nursery rhymes on YouTube a mere ten seconds after she woke up; and my wife, Colleen, just happened to be a week overdue with our second child. By this time Colleen was ready to get the baby out of her as she had been experiencing something called Braxton Hicks for a few days which I just assumed was doctor speak for “this baby needs to get the fuck out or I am going to kill you all”. Thankfully, there was a non-stress test/check-up scheduled at the hospital that day where our midwife would be performing the not-so-subtly-named sweep on Colleen. For those not in the know, a sweep is exactly as it sounds. The midwife just gives your cervix the old hand job in hopes of sweeping the baby into action. Sweep. Sweep. Sweep. Sounds like fun!



Possibly the last photographic evidence we have of our now "easy" life with one kid.





As Colleen was liable to pop at any minute, our daughter Squishy and I accompanied her to the hospital for her lunchtime appointment. Once there, Colleen underwent all her necessary tests and had her sweep (last time I use this word I promise!). I was tasked with keeping our other child alive, which presumably was not going well as she kept dropping her food on the hospital floor and then eating it. When one of the nurses saw this and looked appalled she told me I should probably not be letting my daughter do this as those floors were, well, they were hospital floors. I did not have the balls to tell the nurse that I had already let my daughter eat an entire lunch buffet off the floor by that point. As all the hospital stuff was wrapping up, our midwife Sabrina and the doctor were both fairly certain that Moreau baby number two would be coming that day as Colleen was four centimetres dilated. What exactly this means I do not know. However, I did understand that a baby possibly sliding down the old birthing tubes today was a very real possibility…..



"Hey Dad. Throw my mafuckin' Cheerios on the floor so I can eat them up and show this unborn baby how tough I am."

NEXT TIME: POOL PARTY!!!!!!!!