I was prepared for the pain.
Four years earlier, Cortney had abdominal surgery to remove his appendix. I remembered him holding his tummy as he shuffled around the house.
I wasn’t surprised that having a C-section made me look similar to his old man pose.
What did surprise me was how painful it was just to twist my torso to see Eddie in his little baby “aquarium” thing. Or how much effort it would be to get out of bed, shuffle across the room, and lower myself onto the toilet to pee. And then getting back UP from the toilet?
I was tired a lot.
One of the first times I got up from my hospital bed and shuffled to the bathroom all by myself, the only people in the room to witness my triumph were Cort and Eddie, and to be honest? Eddie did not cheer and hoot like I felt he should. Cort was only slightly more encouraging.
Anyway. I had made it to the bathroom. I had finished peeing. And I was just sitting there mustering up the energy to lift myself up to standing when I heard it.
A long, loud drawn out bit o flatulence.
And then? laughter.
As I sat there in my gown with the mesh undies around my ankles, I put my hands up to my face and groaned.
And he was STILL laughing. And there may have been heavy breathing and then more laughing.
Ok, really? Was his fart REALLY that funny?
I took a deep breath, grabbed the mesh undies with one hand and the grab bar in the other and slowly stood up. I cradled my soft belly in one hand and adjusted my undergarments with the other.
He was still laughing. It sounded almost painful. Really?
I hunched over the sink washing my hands and looking at my greasy hair and pale skin.
He continued to laugh.
Finally, I opened the door and saw him.
He was sitting on the couch, our wee one in his arms, head thrown back, tears streaming down his face…laughing.
“Cort. It was a fart. It’s not THAT funny. It’s sort of gross.”
He shook his head as his body erupted with deep laughter and tears all over again.
I shuffled to the bed.
“Seriously, babe. Not that funny.”
He wiped the tears from his eyes while shifting our little burrito to his other arm.
“No, Kate…it wasn’t me.”
And the laughter started again as he threw his head back onto the window ledge.
And then I got it. He was pointing at Eddie.
“OH MY…” and the laughter started somewhere deep within me. I tried to stop it, knowing how a belly laugh would tear at my wound, but I couldn’t stop it.
Tears streamed down my face–both from pain and from joy.
“That was such a…such a…,” I gasped, “MAN FART!”
And we both lost it all over again.
“No…stop…,” I begged, “I can’t….it hurts…ohhh!!!”
Finally our laughter gave way to heavy sighs and the wiping of tears.
Every now and then a chuckle would escape our lips and we would stifle it…trying not to hurt me again with a full on attack.
Turned into this little man…