I had an appointment with the midwife, who says Kiddo#4 is doing well. Kiddo#4 may even be a bit large (which is good; I always wanted a nine and a half pound baby) and by all accounts I’m doing fine too.
Kiddo#3 was there in full form, and when the midwife began palpatating my abdomen to feel the baby, he started kneading me as if I were bread. It kept him quiet, so I didn’t complain. Eventually he wandered away to play with the toys.
There was a junior midwife at the visit, and the senior midwife was showing her some “interesting” things about my anatomy. Apparently there’s a slight quirk that messes with the fundal height, so at first the baby measured huge, but later the more experienced midwife got a better measurement.
“You feel how her pelvis slopes?” the midwife said, then demonstrated for he with a plastic model of the human pelvis. “You have to measure from this point, but on her, it’s HERE rather than HERE.”
I missed the finer details, but the jist was this: my pelvic structures tilt away from the rest of my body. “That’s probably why she has such fast labors,” the senior midwife told the junior.
It was like a light went on in my head: from the time I was a little kid, I’ve been teased because my butt sticks out. It just does. It’s not something I can really control with better posture, although I try. When I lie flat on my back on a hard surface, I cannot make my spine go flush with the floor; there’s a huge arch. This drove my gymnastics instructors nuts when I was a kid, and I was scolded by various teachers and relatives to stand straight. My pediatrician said it was no big deal. It was just that the lowest segment of my spine was distended.
And here we are, almost thirty years after I got followed down the hall in grammar school by the nasty girls telling me I had a big butt, and who’s laughing now? Because I had an 82-minute labor with Kiddo#2, a 60-minute labor with Emily Rose, and only four hours of active labor with both Kiddo#1 and Kiddo#3. I’ve never pushed more than twice to have a baby.
And therefore I say unto you, all you rude girls who mocked my fat behind: HAH! No two hours of pushing for me! This body was BUILT to give birth, and you MOCKED IT! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!
What I meant to say is, sometimes it’s okay being different. It may even have its advantages.