Feeling like you need to take the most gigantic shit but not being able to shit is, in fact, not quite the spiritual experience I imagined from the outside. My water broke on a Citibike on Bedford Ave, right after leaving the Met Pool where I’d been trying once more to initiate a flip. I took off on the bike and left Anthony behind, beating him back to the house by several minutes. The need-to-shit feeling set in by the time I kicked off my soaked sweatpants. I still wasn’t completely sure what was happening, or at least whether IT was happening, but the midwife I called cut me off at “a lot of liquid” and “breech baby” and told us to get to the hospital immediately. Pretty soon we were in a Lyft bouncing through the side streets of Long Island City and I understood what contractions were. Every pothole on New York’s shitty streets made me scorchingly furious and if Anthony had been driving I probably would’ve leaned on the horn at every asshole driver who cut us off.
❤️
Well done mumma
Congratulations!
Congratulations!