Here’s a little story about an umbilical cord situation. Don’t know what I mean by that? Get to reading then, silly!


Are we ready for some more blood? Not nearly as much as in the last post—the bloody, gory, unexpected c-section—but just a little. I foresee lots blood, booboo’s, butts, and beers* (just kidding) in my future considering I now have a small child to care for—a tiny, uncoordinated, little drunk of a child—so you’re going to have to bear with me from here on out.

It was approximately six days after Emmy was born; my mother, sister, her boyfriend, and my brother were still in town, as were Kayleigh’s mother and stepfather. So, Emerson and I were in the living room, everyone else was kinda just dilly-dallying around, probably bored out of their minds because it was raining outside and we couldn’t really take a new baby anywhere. I’m sure they were eating and talking away as well because my family be hungry and they never shut up. I love you guys.

Side note: Emerson had a lot of tummy troubles when she was an eensy-weensy little baby… like a lot. It felt like she was constantly firing yellowish-orange lava into her diaper and needing to be changed. It wasn’t really her fault though, and it’s not like she was an abnormally excessive pooper… we just didn’t know that she was lactose-intolerant until a ways down the line. Poor little shit (pun fun anyone?).

So she had shat, or shitteth—shitted? in her diaper, again, for like the fourth time in a matter of a couple of hours. Kayleigh and I had nose-goes-ed for who had to deal with the liquid mess and I had been the slow one. I lay our little baby monster out on the changing mat on the floor, gathered the butt-cleaning supplies, and removed her diaper.

Inside was… her normal mess, nothing too spectacular or over the top. I cleaned her up, no problem, and it was over quickly and painlessly. I felt on top of the world, as if I were getting the whole fathering thing down so easily, and in only six days too! I was probably about to brag to Kayleigh and my family or something, maybe bust out a line like, “Yeah, did you see how fast that was? Amazing, huh?” when something happened that took the wind out of my sails—something that not only made me feel like a less competent parent but something that scared the hell out of me, too.

I was going to pick Emmy up, or maybe I was just adjusting her diaper—I don’t quite remember—but good thing that’s not what matters here. What does matter is that when I went to move her—or do whatever I was doing—my hand grazed her umbilical cord just slightly… and then it was, well, it was just stuck to me. I swear to fuckin’ god—her umbilical cord somehow suctioned onto my mother f***in’ fingertip and pulled away from her belly just like a ship leaving a dock.

I flipped out a little bit. I mean, I had her dried out umbilical cord/first mouth somehow stuck to my hand like a little leech and even writing about it now still makes me a little queasy. “Mom!” I yelled, “Mom, I don’t know what to do, what do I do? Mom, come here, now!” I was on the verge of tears I think. I didn’t know if I hurt Emmy and if I was now responsible for deforming her belly button, something she’d hate me for for the rest of her life, something that was a total accident. She just lay there too, all slobber-mouthed and super confused, staring at me like she didn’t know what the hell I was. I swear, though, if I were to take a polygraph test and the person asking me questions asked if the cord attacked me or vice versa, I’d say that to the best of my recollection I wasn’t doing shit and the raisin-esque belly-snake struck out and grabbed onto me. If I answered that way I’d pass, I’d pass with flying colors, okay?

My mom came running over like this was the moment her life had always been leading up to, as did Kayleigh, my brother, sister, and her boyfriend, and we all took a look at the tiny hole that used to bind her to her mama; there was blood inside her belly-button and we didn’t know whether we needed to take her to the E.R. or not. We aren’t doctors, (seriously, we’re not) and I was secretly afraid that her intestines were about to start sliding out of her belly button any second. We took several pictures of the affected area and sent them to Kayleigh’s doctor cousin, who then texted back and let us know that things were more than likely going to be okay, that her internal organs should, in fact, stay in place and not begin sloughing out of her.


I eventually got the crusty old cord detached from my hand and we threw it away instead of keeping it like an old concert ticket. Kayleigh said we couldn’t save it because “that’s disgusting” and you should have seen her gagging and near-vom when I described the thing grabbing hold of my finger. Priceless.

Anyways, that was how Emmy lost her umbilical cord: on my hand at six days old. I will never forget it and I pray to God or whoever the hell is out there that this never happens to anybody else. Makes you nearly lose your lunch out both ends from shock, fear, and disgust.

Her belly-button is fine, by the way…

*I’m an alcoholic. I’ve been in recovery since June 1, 2014 :]

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