Congratulations, you’re up the duff!
Do expect: Puke on the floor, tiny kicks to the crotch in the middle of the night, unsolicited advice from random strangers, the need for wine at 8am and lots & lots of laughs.
The books hits shelves on 20 May but we’ve got an exclusive extract…
‘Sharyn Hayden, reporting for labour!’ I roared at them gleefully, leaning against the reception desk with all the air of an expectant celebrity, whose imminent arrival might have been big news in the Dublin maternity hospital.
Evidently exhausted from the burden of gainful employment, neither chappie could manage a welcoming smile. Nor had they the energy to lift their wretched acne-filled heads up straight atop their little freckled necks to make eye contact.
‘Just take a seat over there, love.’
One of them cocked his lifeless head in the general direction of the waiting area and got back to whatever amazing level he was on, on his PS3. Em, where is the excitement, I wondered? Where is the handsome murse with my wheelchair to whisk me up to my private room that will be decorated by Willy Wonka (Lickable Labour Room Wallpaper anyone? Who needs gas and air when you can have pineapples that taste like pineapples?!)
The rest of the Adele album would be playing softly in the background of that private, candle-lit room, as Ass Monkey gently sprayed my face with the Evian face mist that every parenting website told me to buy. And he would repeat over and over that he loves me so much and can’t believe how lucky he is to have such a beautiful, calm, strong woman in his life to reproduce with.
Where was all that, eh? I ordered that version, didn’t I?!
I sneakily checked out my fellow admittees in the waiting area – there were another three couples ahead of us, and everyone – besides me – seemed very calm. Ass Monkey and I shuffled over to take our own seats and we solemnly snuck in a few side glances at couples holding hands, serene pregnant women breathing very deeply and patiently and well, we were a bit embarrassed of ourselves to be honest.
Every time I had a contraction, the pain raged through my back and to be frank, gee area, so fiercely, that I had to stand up from my chair, turn to lean against the wall and Ass Monkey had to rub my back until the pain subsided (It was a reasonable request/order – depending on who you’re talking to – that had been communicated the second the labour pains had begun that afternoon. Despite the fact that I do love to be rubbed, what the hell else was Ass Monkey supposed to be doing – just sitting there, staring at me? My painful undercarriage, he was!).
For more information see www.RaisingIreland.com
