No?
Apparently, these things only happen to me.
As I’ve shared before, after I delivered Abby in 2009 I had a really hard time with the whole breastfeeding thing.
A really hard time.
They actually let me stay in the hospital for five days and I had lactation consultants (the Boob Nazis) with me 24/7. We were all determined to make it work (which it never did, but I’m at peace with that now)
Anyway, when you are in the hospital for an extended period of time, especially after giving birth and being felt up for days on end by the BN’s, and having your pelvis examined every two seconds by doctors and nurses who want to check how your c-section is healing, you are naked a lot. Except for those lovely mesh fishnet granny panties and giant maxi pads. Oh, and all the staples across your deflated stomach.
I was super attractive, obviously.
I put on a gown when family and friends came to visit, but by the fourth day everyone had come and gone and it was just the nurses, the BN’s, my husband, and me with my bloody, torn up nipples. They had me breastfeeding for 30 minutes on each side, then pumping for an additional 40. It was a 1hour, 40-minute cycle that I had to repeat every two hours, so I got a 20-minute break every 2 hours to sleep or eat and not be in excruciating pain. Those breaks are also when they did the pelvic exams.
There was no point in getting dressed, so I didn’t.
Every time there was a knock at my door it was another Boob Nazi who wanted to try some different kind of torture device and I willingly let them in and did whatever they said.
Sometimes it was a nurse bringing lunch.
But one time it was a priest. Not even a priest I knew, just some dude the hospital had sent into my room because I had checked “Roman Catholic” as the denomination on our entrance forms.
Knock Knock.
“Come in.” I’m standing in the middle of the room because I’m supposed to practice walking on my 20-minute breaks. I’m thinking it is a nurse bringing my baby back from the nursery so we can start a brand new feeding session.
Enter priest, dressed just as you would expect, entirely in black with a white collar.
Immediate thoughts: Who are you? Is the baby ok? Am I dying? Is he here to give me last rites? I’m pretty sure I can’t die from nipple inflammation. Is he in the wrong room? Why won’t he make eye contact? I guess I should find a shirt. Wait, no way! Putting on a shirt freakin’ hurts right now, plus then I’m going to have to take my hands away from covering my torn up chest, and that’s going to be scarring for both of us. Dude, SAY SOMETHING. No? Ok, fine. I’ll say something…
“Um…Can I help you?”
“Do you want your baby baptized?” At least I think that’s what he said. He spoke in broken English.
Am I being punked right now? Really? I have to stand here naked talking to a priest I can’t understand while I’m completely high on OxyContin. Where is my husband? I so do not want to deal with this.
It has suddenly become entirely Eddie’s fault. Poor guy had just gone to the cafeteria to get a sandwich. In my head, he should have been here to head this off. He will pay.
“Not right now.”
“Shall I come back later?”
“Thank you but I don’t think that will be necessary. We have a church.” At the time we didn’t actually have a church because we had just moved to a different state.
Now I’m standing here naked and lying to a priest.
“so…thanks….” Please leave, please leave, please leave.
He finally left.
The whole thing probably took less than two minutes but it felt like forever.
Eventually, Eddie came back and I probably yelled at him.
Everybody knows that anything awkward or awful that happens as a result of the childbirth process is 100% the husband’s fault.
That includes when priests see you naked.
It’s called science.
linking to Finding The Funny
Oh boy! I wasn’t naked, but I had a priest walk in on me while I was breastfeeding my daughter when she was first born. Like you, when I heard the knock at the door, I assumed it was just another doctor or nurse. I don’t know who was more embarrassed when he walked in, asking if I wanted to take communion. I said no, because I didn’t know how to detach the baby without making the situation worse.
Thank you. You just made my laugh for the first time today!
I’m blogging while 2 men are reconstructing my washing machine and it has been silent for an hour while they are working hard. I laughed so hard about this, and even harder when you said “not right now”. OMG. That is a scene from some movie. You have to call Hollywood.
I also have to say that I’ve read you a few times from Finding the Funny and it wasn’t until just now that I realied your blog is BINKIES and briefcases, not BIKINIS and briefcases. That masters in reading is really showing.
Seriously – hilarious! And totally your husband’s fault! đŸ™‚
You were one of the most clicked links at last week’s #findingthefunny (again) We’re featuring you tomorrow, and I pinned this. Thanks for linking up!
Love that your sweet answer was “not right now”. Ha! As in yes, let’s whip out the family camera and snap away some baptism pics while I stand here naked…amazing!
I would have killed my husband. Then I suppose the priest would have to visit me again. And I’d tell him to please summon a rabbi.