Why I’ll Never Be Able to Hate November Again
I’ve always hated November—its gray skies, its gloom, and its gloominess... Nothing happens in November—no events, no holidays.
In November, without fail, I’m depressed and restless. I cry or I’m in a foul mood… all the time.
But in 2017, November got its revenge on me—for the rest of my life. On November 2, my second child, my little (so little!) Justin, was born. November had just put an end to my “whining” and tears (except for tears of joy) for the rest of my life! Damn November!
Benjamin, my first son, was born in January 2014. After being induced, 26 hours of pain and anguish followed, during which neither mom nor baby were doing well at all. My heart rate slowed, labor stopped for no reason, and both mom and baby developed infections. Afterward, bonding was difficult due to extreme physical exhaustion and a mild case of postpartum depression to top it all off. What a joy! (Can you feel the irony?)
So, when I found out that I was not only going to give birth in November but that I was going to be induced yet again, I thought to myself: “Of course—it’s November! I’m going to be completely exhausted and depressed for another two months… Damn November!”
However, it didn’t turn out that way at all… After my induction that morning, the kind nurse told me to spend the latent phase in the comfort of my own home and come back that evening so we could see how things were progressing. She said, “Your contractions are already strong; I wouldn’t be surprised if we could break your water tonight.”
Forget it, girl, I thought to myself. It’s November—this is going to be just like the last one: a real nightmare, really tough.
4:20 p.m.: We head back to the hospital as planned. I get out of the car and tell my husband to leave everything in the car. He’ll have plenty of time to come get it all later… at least 26 hours, I tell him, grumbling and grouchy… Until, right in the middle of the parking lot, my water breaks. Well, doc, looks like you won’t need to break my water after all…
5:00 p.m.: I’m 3 cm dilated. No way! That’s impossible. With Benjamin, it took hours to get to that point! And it doesn’t even hurt… This isn’t normal—it’s weird!
7:30 p.m.: Okay, now it hurts… But I don’t want the epidural! That’s when I asked for it with my first, and that’s when everything started going wrong. And I’m at 4+… November is laughing at me!
8:00 p.m.: KILL ME, NOW! If it’s this bad at just 5, what’s it going to be like at 10? Plus, my body feels like it’s splitting in two! I demand pain relief—forget everything I said before! My nurse examines me, saying it’s a bit dramatic for me to say I’m going to split in two… Until she realizes that not only am I at 10, but she can actually feel the head of my Juju! He’s coming—and fast! Come on, Magalie, next contraction, push! I push…
8:24 p.m.: Completely surprised—not to mention caught off guard—I’m holding my vigorous little Justin, who, barely out of the womb, is super calm, handsome like his big brother, and already starting to look for the breast. November had just given me a joyful high five.
And ever since, November has been passing peacefully; it’s given me a gift, and everything is going wonderfully well. And as the first Christmas lights come on, the first snow falls, and November quietly slips away, winking at me. Next year, there’ll be a celebration in November—a joyful one, full of colors and lights. I’ll never be able to hate November again… It’s got me… Damn November!
Magalie Couet-Lannes