I'm just going to cut right to the chase on this one.
If you read Eleni's birth story, you all know I had to get stitches. Now, I don't know if someone at one point mentioned to my husband or I why exactly I was getting stitches, but if they did, it fell back into the recesses of my brain. I just assumed I had a tear, it was repaired, moving on. So when things started getting uncomfortable at the stitch site, I called my poor OBGYN's office who has answered more disturbing questions from me than I care to admit, and they booked me an appointment.
I took Ana and Eleni with me and the nurse got my weight and all the pre-appointment stuff and asked the standard, "What's going on today?"
"Well, there's a bump at my stitch site that makes it uncomfortable to sit," I explained. I told her it had been about a week since it started and mentioned that I don't know why I had stitches. (Not at fault of anyone except myself.)
"You had a second degree tear." She explained. Now, some of you Mom's out there know what that is right this very moment. I did not. I didn't have any tearing with Ana, I wasn't a birth story guru yet, and I just never looked it up. I figured a tear was a tear.
"Oh, okay." I proceeded to undress from the waist down as the stir-ups and spotlight came out.
The doctor came in, took a look, explained there was pressure on the stitch site and that the bump was from my body putting pressure on the stitches. It will heal itself and the stitches will eventually dissolve. Oh, also definitely do not have sex because there were very obvious stitches that would suffer.
No sex. Second degree tear. Got it.
Flashback to a couple years ago when my Mom and I had my sister trapped in the car and we were going on and on about the horrors of childbirth. Needle in the spine, squeezing something large out of a small hole in your body, the recovery period, painful pooping, etc.
Then my Mom exclaims, "Yeah and sometimes, like with your brother, the baby is too big, so they have to cut your taint and make one big hole!" We all snorted laughing at this. Mostly because of the word taint because we are so mature.
Now flash forward to after the doctors appointment when I wondered, what is a second degree tear anyways? As I read the all knowing answers from Google, my face turned white and I couldn't call my Mom fast enough because you always call your Mom and rant when you find disturbing information and she's the only one who's answered more disturbing questions than my OB. She didn't answer so my message went as follows:
Me, with a frantic voice: "Dad, this message is NOT for you so plug your ears and don't listen. MOM. THEY CUT MY FREAKING TAINT. NOBODY EVER SAID EPISIOTOMY-SO-I-JUST-THOUGHT-IT-WAS-A-MINOR-TEAR-HOLY-SHIT-CALL-ME-BACK."
My next call was to my sister.
"NANNAH. THEY ACTUAL CUT MY TAINT. It's not as funny anymore. It actually happened."
Nannah: "Well yeah."
Me: "How did you know?! You weren't in the room!"
Nannah: "I just kind of figured. [Eleni] was so big..."
So then I felt like an idiot. But my Mom called me back and we laughed about it and the fact I smelled like old boob milk and accidentally wore the same pants that Eleni spit up on the day before that I forgot about.
Actually, I forgot again. I'm still wearing those pants. But hey. At least sitting feels a little better. And I have a brand spanking new taint.
*I'd like to thank my Mom for the excessive use of the word 'taint' in this post. And to my sister who said "I should read your blog soon," I hope this is the first post you read you bastard (Just kidding, I love you.)