So, now I have announced to the world on facebook that I have indeed had two princess like girls from that awful mating Momma put me through. I shall never forgive her you know. For two months I threw up every day and they called me the Duchess of Cambridge the whole time! Finally, about a week to go in my pregnancy, I gave up being sick and started to eat really well and which was just as well as the nausea came back during my 18hr labour! It was then a further two hours contracting like a boa constrictor to release no.1 daughter, Baby Hawise, who had been crowning for 40 minutes and Momma intervened. Holey Guacamole! THAT smarted for awhile. I lay like a wet rag, Momma mopping my brow and ManSlave reviving my floppy kitten. Then all over again, the pushing and the heaving and out popped a very tired baby Emma, Daughter No2. I have to admit, I did really well and didn't make a peep and trusted Momma.
Momma started to feed them for me, even though I had lots of milky, the different blood group to my Beau, Barry White, meant that my babies could die if they drink before their tummies close off. This means they don't get all my goodies and they get substitute from a syringe. I had to wear a dire cat suit too. Grey is just NOT my colour. It was tight everywhere and it hampered my breathing a bit where my throat is narrow. So Momma didn't leave me for 20hrs and fed my girls every time they squeaked.
You won't believe this. 20hrs into the feeding and I go into labour again, except Momma thought I was going to be sick, so she whipped my cat suit off and I trotted down stairs on wobbly legs and did THE best pee EVER! I also deposited a decent chocolate gold there in the pay dirt! ManSlave said to Momma I had litter covering my butt and to catch me. Momma did and saw I was having another baby. I was swiftly rinsed of filthy litter and popped into bed again. It took two hours and LOTS of pushing to get No.3 out. It wasn't a nice feeling and he kept vanishing back up the shoot and I had to start all over again. Momma grabbed his feet next time they came out and just waited until I could push again. Together we finally got his hips out, then more pushes and shoulders came. Unfortunately, he wasn't alive so I didn't have anything to push against and his head got stuck for quite some time. Momma violated me yet again and had to pop her little finger in my butt hole and push him out that way as I was getting worried and weak. It was a real shame. My long labours had starved him of oxygen and his placenta was not alive. We all felt really sad and I didn't want my own two wiggly girls at first. But Momma said they could suckle now and that helped me feel better. Momma and I buried him with the rest of the Maystar Pride in the garden. I washed him before Momma wrapped him up and we picked flowers together - it was an intimate moment and people say cats don't care, they are wrong, we do!
So, quite the ordeal really, but in some ways, I was so strong and recovered really fast and didn't do any of that weird panting my family does which made it nice for Momma as it is less worrying. I am an amazing Mum it seems and very attentive and incredibly, even my busy mind is OK with being in one place. I wash them a lot and clean the blankets with my licker. Both girls are sparkling and my whites are DAZ white! I haven't wanted to move them and feel very happy laid on the bed with Momma. Me in my Bubbah Da Hutt and her right next to me holding my paw and sorting out the girls for me when I am tired at night time. I don't feel sick any more and have put on heaps of weight as have my girls. They are SO fat and full of rich milky like seal pups they roll about, eyes like aliens staring into nowhere. I love them so much. Who would have guessed that all that horrible mating experience and the birthing thing - I would be so totally devoted to these tiny creatures. They are my world.
Long May I reign - from your honourable Queen Vee =^..^=