Friday, May 26, 2006


I'm packing my hospital suitcase. The Kid is so not budging, but I still feel that this must be done now. I will tie a big blue ribbon around the bag it so it's easily identifiable and not confused with my husband's bag of old assignments for Teacher's College. That would blow, yea verily.

Most of the books I've read suggest bringing your own baggy t-shirt for labour, because it will be more comfortable than a hospital gown. That may be, but I think I ought not to give birth in a paint-stained Coors Light t-shirt. I'd better start digging through drawers.

Gotta charge up the camera battery. There will be limited opportunities for picture-taking. Why? Because I'm damn well going to limit the opportunities. I hate having my picture taken on a good day, never mind when I'm sweating, dazed and exhausted. Call me old-fashioned, but I think that a few tasteful photos of the whole mess should suffice. Anyone bearing a video camera will be told, gently, where they might insert it.

Other stuff I might not have yet, that I will need: Nightgowns that open in the front for nursing. A natural sponge out of which I can suck water desperately when I'm allowed nothing else. Rum. A small firearm to threaten nurses with.

Well, that just means more shopping. Shucks, darn.


Blogger Kathleen said...

In the clothing department, skirts. You will not appreciate the added pressure on your postpartum hoo-ha that pants will provide.

(I'm just sayin'.)

May 26, 2006 11:07 p.m.  
Blogger Mrs. M. said...

*squirms* Ah. I hear you. Skirts it is, then, and wildly unflattering saggy pants. ;-)

May 27, 2006 9:01 a.m.  

Post a Comment

<< Home