BEWARE THE BABY-HEAD EATING CARSEAT INSERTS

Friday morning during rounds, OB stated as long as I felt up to it and ZGirl checked out OK, I could be discharged. While the accommodations at the hospital have been adequate, I just wanted to be home. I showered, changed into the clothes I wore to the hospital (bumming myself out in the process that they “fit” just as niftily then as they did a week before), and vegged out and watched House Hunters long enough to wonder why anyone would ever want to purchase a 900sq ft condo in New York for 1.9M when a 900sq ft house here in Nebraska could be scooped up for as little as $25,000 depending on whether or not there are any bonus amenities like traffic lights located within city limits.

I didn’t realize that my discharge orders wouldn’t be written until some time after 5:00 pm. At least I didn’t have to pay for Friday’s room since I technically was not part of the hospital’s census, which means my butt wasn’t in their bed at midnight. Word to the wise, people.

I changed ZGirl into the pink outfit, one of the two I had brought along, the other being green. And waited. During my wait, the nursery nurse managed to freak me out a bit by mentioning that ZGirl’s bilirubin was at such-and-such levels and that Pediatrician would let me know more. Her levels were fine, but she did have bit of a yellow face, which has since cleared up.

Mr. DD showed up with XBoy and the carseat and we loaded her into it and walked out to the nurse’s station, only to be shooed back into my room by the Carseat Nazi. She took one look at my Kiddopotamus insert supporting ZGirl so nicely and declared in her most saccharine and patronizing voice that the carseat had not been crash tested with that particular insert and then proceeded to scare the shit out of me with what could happen.

I tried to bluff my way through and explain that the insert had been tested while at the same time lifting ZGirl back out of the seat. “Well, I can ask Soandso…” “Don’t bother. I’ve already got ZGirl out of the seat. I’ll just remove it and get her back in so we can go.”

Then I put ZGirl back in, tightened the NASA designed straps, and asked Mr. DD for the extra blanket to put around her head to keep it fairly upright. “No, I’m sorry,” said Carseat Nazi, “but the blanket can be loosened in a car crash and smother her if it fell over her face. Instead we can give you a couple of rolled up receiving blankets to put on either side of her head…” How the fuck that was any safer then either the insert or blanket was beyond me.

“No. It’s fine. Let’s just get going.” Mr. DD recognized my tone and we give each other The Look behind Carseat Nazi’s back. The Look that says, “Please don’t bitch slap the nurse here in public” and helped me into the wheel chair, put the carseat on my lap and headed towards the unit’s exit.

Carseat Nazi chirped along merrily and she took over the pushing at such a slow pace I wanted to jump out of the chair and sprint ahead – c-section be damned. We reached the car at which point she noticed my kankles and started with the assvice about that as well. I think while she was in the middle of congratulations and wishing us the best that I shut the car door in her face, smiled and waved good-bye.

Since then, I verified that the insert has been tested and passed carseat safety testing. Mr. DD said I should send her the info, but I’m not wasting any more time thinking about the incident then I already have. It was an example of one of my rarer moments of where I’d rather just suck it up then try to have my way.

Just look at how mature I am! I turn 39*, have a baby, and act like a big girl – all within a couple of weeks!

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* 39 years old or in the general vicinity.