Last Post About Pushing Out Babies, I Swear

Okay. I thought I had covered my labor and delivery pretty well. But there were a few details I left out, and in order to be thorough, I'm posting them now... Plus, I think they're pretty funny.
Things like:

+My feet. My feet didn't swell a day in my entire pregnancy, but as soon as I got the epidural, they puffed out like balloons. It looked like I rolled both my ankles on both sides. In fact, my feet were swollen and itchy, and I asked everyone passing by my bed if they could spare a little scratch. Laura, Ricky's mom, lifted up the bedsheet and said, "Yeesh! Your feet are normally like a little Asian woman's, but, my goodness, Lindsay--you're Fred Flintstone!"

Yep. I was Fred Flintstone. I came to the hospital wearing Uggs, but they wouldn't fit. So my mom ran home to get my flip flops, but not only were they not wide enough, they weren't tall enough. So she found a pair of sensible moccasin slippers at Wal-Mart. She even slipped them on her feet and concluded they were massive and would be perfect.

Nope. We're getting ready to leave and she tries to shove the things on... and they won't fit. Will not be wedged on my toes. "What am I supposed to wear?" I cried. My mom answered, "Bread loaf pans?" Then I laughed for the first time in three days and thought my stitches would pop.

+The things I said during labor. I vaguely remember things that actually came out of my mouth, but Ricky, Laura, and my mom recall:

Midwife: Are you feeling pressure or pain, Lindsay?
Me: Pain!
Midwife: Where's the pain?
Me: (Pause for a second.) In MY ASS!

Nurse: Come on, Lindsay. You can do this. You can do hard things.
Me: How would you know? You've only known me for 20 hours!

Ricky: It's okay, it's okay.
Me: (sitting up to look in his eyes and pointing my finger) Don't tell me it's okay. It's not okay. How would you know if it's okay? Shut up.
(Ricky and my mom locked eyes and kind of chuckled)

+The M&M I begged my mom to eat at about 5am when I was starving. She had a package of them, and I kept begging, "Just one M&M. I won't tell anyone." My mom was reluctant. "You'll only want more." "No," I promised. "Just one."

I ate it. She was right. I wanted more. Moral? Mother knows best. (Remember that always, Finley.)

+When everyone came in to see me and the baby in the labor room, my mom was feeding me the ham sandwich I was finally allowed to eat. If you've seen Godzilla, you can picture what this looked like.

If I think of anything more, I'll post it. It's all so freaking hilarious I'd be nuts to not chronicle it.