Shame? What's that?

There's no dignity in mommyhood.

From your first prenatal ultrasound  (done with what looks suspiciously like a dildo covered in a horse condom), to the Strep B test (wait... you want to wipe my BUMHOLE with that giant Q-tip?? WTF???) your sense of modesty is slowly but surely chipped away. Then one day you find yourself comparing your chapped nipples with the woman who came to set up Little Darling's RESP, without a stich of embarassment.

Alternatively, there are those mommy moments where we sacrifice our dignity specifically for our child's welfare. Like jumping into a pool with no regard for hair and makeup or bolting out of a change room in your bra because Little Darling is no longer in your line of vision. Today it was my turn.

I was going to the washroom (I hate how many of my stories start that way), with the door open so Dawson didn't lose his mind. He didn't actually want to be with me, as he was playing in his room, he just wanted the option. (Isn't the needy phase fun??) Suddenly he started screaming. Full on, blood curdling screaming.

I chucked my Today's Parent into the bathtub and bolted, mid tinkle, down the hall with my pants around my ankles. Dawson had fallen against his door, trapping his little fingers in the jam. Because he was leaning on the door, he couldn't get his fingers out. Because his hand was trapped, he couldn't get himself back on his feet. Three itty bitty fingertips were poking through, shattering my heart.

Oh, and a trail of pee ran behind me. Klassy.

It took me a few seconds to figure out how to open the door without knocking him down, but eventually I was able to scoop him up and rock him back and forth, pee running down my legs and pooling on the floor. (Upside: I have a housekeeper now! Downside: she's not due for 4 days. Ew.)

At this point my husband walked through the door.(Ha! Welcome home, Honey!) He immediately offered to take the baby, but Dawson was still whimpering and I didn't want to pass him off yet. So for about 2 more minutes I stood in the hall, pantless and soggy, humming  and rocking and kissing his fingertips. Another crisis averted.

Motherhood is beautiful, rewarding, unlinke anything else. Just check your dignity at the delivery room door.