The Cervical Cassie

My cervix hates me. I am not sure what I did to offend it, but obviously it has it out for me. Yesterday I got an IUD. I knew that the insertion of this IUD would be a tad bit painful so I took a Motrin 600 and a vicodin. Oh yeah! The nurse practitioner was going to perform the procedure because my doctor’s first available appointment was not until June, and there was no way I was going to wait that long. As I lay there, the nurse suddenly said, “Oh, your cervix is going to give me some problems, so I am going to get the doctor.” Did this surprise me? No. Because let me detail to you the amazing adventures of my cervix: abnormal pap smears, colopscopies, laser ablation surgery, maybe cervical polyps resulting in a D&C (no polyps though), short cervix resulting in bed rest during both pregnancies, and now IUD hating cervix. My cervix obviously has low self esteem and needs constant attention. I am sick of it. If I could I would repeatedly bitch slap it for the trials and tribulations it has put me through. Hopefully our relationship is now dead given my new IUD. Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t e-mail me. If I hear anything cervix related for the next 5 years I will be pushed over the edge and punch the person who says it. Just a warning.

Six Weeks After

Here is a summary of my six week post partum OB/GYN appointment:

Doctor: How are you?
Me: Great.
Doctor: So . . .
Me: I never want to ever in my life ever become pregnant again, ever.
Doctor: Good, I was going to ask you.
Me: EVER!!!!!

So I am getting an IUD not a DUI (hee hee, John came up with that). I will like to now take this opportunity to thank my ovaries for a job well done.

Dear Ovaries,

I appreciate the fact that each time I wanted to get pregnant you were all, “Girl says we can release the egg and create life. All men on deck.” Truth be told, I never thought I would even get pregnant. But each time it happened in the very first month of trying. Obviously, you guys do your job with extreme diligence. Sure, some people would consider that awesome, but I consider it a bit annoying. I mean the entire trying to get pregnant thing is awesome. When else do you get to repeatedly rape your better half? Also, thank you for never following through at any other point in my life, say when I was drunk and stupid. Because let’s face it, the early 20s were pretty much defined by drunken stupidity hey lets make out shenanigans. God, it was awesome. But I digress. I want to inform you that you are through, if I could I would remove you via clothing hanger but that might hurt, so I am going the IUD method of birth control as I don’t want to put it in a diaphragm anymore. Let me say, putting in a diaphragm when you a frisky and intoxicated is an event worthy of Olympic gold. Try being drunkenly unsteady with your leg up inserting a plastic orb up your va jay jay. Very taxing for the clumsy. Also, please note ovaries, I am 35, and as you know my eggs are suddenly becoming expired in their shelf life. They are not worthy of being fertilized but instead headed out to pasture with a nice 401k and a condo in Boca, just like you. So ovaries, I bid you adieu. Thank you for the kids (I think).

Yours truly,

Cassie McCall

The Terrible Twos

Oh sweet Jesus, you know when you have one kid and are contemplating another kid and you are all – how hard can it be? Let me be the one to tell you – freaking hard. Actually hard is not proper in its description. Let me rephrase it this way, this entire water boarding torture method – CAKE!! I really do believe that at times I would like to have a bucket of water pour on my head while semi-upside down than to live the life of a mother of two. You might be thinking at this time I am embellishing but dear readers, I am not. My daughter, god bless her, is for the most part a wonderful baby. But for every plus she has there is one thing that blackens it all and that is her banshee like wail. Actually I wish it were a banshee’s wail, because upon hearing it I would be dead. But nope, when I hear Ms. Maggie’s mighty mouth, I am right there next to her, with my ear to her wailing willing every part of my body not to tense up. It is said that your anxiety transfers to the baby making them even more of a mess, so it is best to take the abuse and sojourn on not caring that there is a good chance your hearing has been damaged permanently. I am getting better at going to my safe place during this child inflicted abuse, but at the same time I am thinking – is this what doctors refer to as blacking out during traumatic events? Maggie’s biggest issue so far is her uncanny ability to miss her window of sleep so that she will stay up for about five hours straight during which time she will quietly lull herself into a sense of calm only to ten minutes later find her way back to crazy baby. This leaves me to the entire three hour scheduling window – she gets up, I feed her, awake time, then 90 minutes of sleep. When on this schedule, things are beautiful and lovely, I am blessed, but when the train derails, it is a massacre of carnage. Luckily the train has not been derailing too often, and my willingness to leave and join the circus quelled. Owen is adjusting aside from a few issues involving his going to bed, and the fact that he likes to cry out Mommy!!! Daddy!!! for a good 20 minutes. This from a child who for an entire year did not even go boo when put to sleep. But he is also in his two no stage, or as he likes to say “No Way”. Which is pretty cute and completely irritating at the same time. But he does seem to love “mine baby.” I try to tell him that it is my baby, and that I carried her for nine months, but he does not seem to care, because everything is “mine.” Its like I did not get the memo or something.