I was browsing the web news last night and came across this article. Were Angelina Jolie and I to ever be stuck somewhere together and in need of conversation, we now have something in common. We both had c-sections due to a stubborn breech baby.

Sure, it could have been an excuse, but I doubt it. No other celebrity has used the breech excuse yet, so I don’t think they realize what a good excuse it is. Breech births are supposedly extremely rare – 3-5% of all births, it is said.

Now I wonder what type of breech baby she had. Cordelia was the rarest form of breech – complete breech. Footling and Frank breech are the most common ones, but complete breech occurs in about 10% of breech babies. Imagine a baby sitting upright, cross-legged, as if in a yoga meditation pose. Her base is as wide as possible at the bottom. That would be my daughter.

Early on in the pregnancy she had been flipping every which way. When we got to 32 weeks, I went in for my checkup and told the doctor I thought she was breech. The doctor laughed it away, saying that it was rare for the baby to be breech at this point. I asked about the large, round, hard object that was stuck up in my ribs, and she said it was likely the baby’s butt. I asked her to feel it again, and she did, and then her expression soured slightly. “Maybe that is her head. Let’s check.”

In the ultrasound room, I was treated to a lovely transvaginal ultrasound, since the doctor was still fairly certain she would see a baby skull resting on top of my cervix. She was very quiet for a moment, and then said, “Well, it’s definitely a girl. And that’s not a skull.”

My triumph of being right lasted only seconds, due to the realization that being breech made a natural birth difficult or impossible. I went in for several more checks, until we realized at 37 weeks that Cordy was not changing positions at all, despite me trying everything to convince her to turn. Since complete breech is the most dangerous type to attempt a vaginal delivery, we opted for the c-section for her safety.

So if I ever get the chance to speak with Angelina Jolie, you can bet I’ll be asking her what type of breech Shiloh was, and ask if she wants to compare scars.

By the way, Aaron’s 3rd interview for the state job is at 1:30pm. (It was scheduled for last Friday, but got rescheduled.) Please continue sparing any positive thoughts, prayers, anything you can our way. The check engine light on Aaron’s car came on this weekend, so now both cars are possibly in need of serious repair. We need this job!

Everyone needs a little guilty pleasure now and then. For some, it’s reading the National Enquirer or Star. For others, it’s My Super Sweet 16 or American Idol. Still others (usually guys) use their time off to play video games nonstop. Whether it’s trashy romance novels with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s or comic books and Mountain Dew, we all have a secret pleasure that we indulge in, slightly embarrassed of our enjoyment and hoping that the people we admire will never find out.

Well, because I love to share my secrets with all of you, I’m going to put it out there for you. I love watching the Maury Povich Show.

Maury used to be your average talkshow, but during the Springer years, when suddenly talkshows were divided into the respectable Oprah and the redneck Springer, they realized they needed a niche. They found their niche in five topics:

• I Was a Dork, but Look How Hot I Am Now!
• My Two Year Old Weighs 150 Pounds
• Is This a Woman or a Man in Drag?
• Lie Detector Tests Revealed
• Six Men Tested – Who’s the Father?

While all of these can be amusing, Maury really shines when it comes to Paternity Test shows. If you ever start to feel superior to other people in the world, just watch one of these episodes to help you realize that Western society is not nearly as civilized as we think it is.

I especially love the guests who are already on their 6th appearance, still trying to find the father of their child. They introduce the 12th guy to be tested, and the woman is always yelling, “I KNOW he’s my baby’s daddy! I am 110% positive!”

The guy, of course, nearly always denies it. Some of my favorite excuses include, “We only had sex one time!” “I only make boys, and she has a girl!” and “I’ve never even slept with that slut” I especially like the last one when it turns out the guy is the father. I’m still waiting for them to explain that one.

Then there are the women who like to keep it in the family, and so bring their boyfriend, and either their boyfriend’s cousin, father, or brother along to test.

Of course, sometimes it’s the men who call the show, wanting to know if they really are the father of their child. They come onto the show, angry, saying how their wife/girlfriend has “always been a slut” and “I know she’s been cheatin’ on me.” They harass and insult the woman all the way up until the results are revealed. When the child ends up being their kid, suddenly they’re saying, “I knew it all along! I love you, baby. You’re the only one for me.” I keep waiting for one of these women to smack the hell out of these guys and tell them where they can stick it.

I admit I love this melodrama. I enjoy looking at the pictures and making my guess, based on both sides of the story, who the baby belongs to. It’s scary how accurate I’ve become.

I also find the continuous plethora of guests for this type of show to be sad. It amazes me that there are that many mothers out there who genuinely do not know the father of their child. In the case of women who have tested 6 or more men, my mind boggles: how in the world did you manage to sleep with that many men in that short period of time? It’s also sad how many of the men on the show say that they have other children, often from different mothers.

I try not to wonder about the future of these children. That would spoil the voyeuristic fun of the show and might just make me cry.

Now, no worries about Cordy seeing this trash TV. I never watch it with her around. This is reserved only for when I’m home sick, or if she’s napping. God forbid I let her see that people like that can get fame on TV. Wouldn’t want her to have a dream of being on Maury someday.

We’ve had a great weekend, and I’m exhausted, so please enjoy these videos of Cordy for tonight. For those who haven’t been here all that long, you will also now have the privilege(?) of hearing my voice.

Cordy saying mama:

Our little musical genius, playing piano and singing along with it. (For the record, we have no idea what she’s singing.)

And finally, Cordy waves bye bye.