Cephalic presentation Puns

Well, two questions:

1. could you feel when baby's head passed by the ischial spines?

2. could you feel baby's arms and legs leave your vagina as they birthed? If not, what did it feel like to birth the body?

I've talked to a couple of friends about this, and nobody else has experienced it before/didn't remember! Is it possible I just imagined these sensations?? Please tell me, am I an oddball?

Baby tax: http://imgur.com/a/JB8omyX

Hey friends! We welcomed Baby J at 3:18 a.m. on Saturday, October 16th. We are both doing extremely well but labor was a long and crooked line. I also want to say that it would have been so much worse if I had not gone in armed with the collective expertise of this group so thank you to each and every one of you.

Quick recap: appointments leading up to delivery suggested that J was big, really long, and somewhat right occiput cephalic. Because of this package, the team suggested outpatient induction with a Foley ballon. This was 1) extremely painful even AFTER experiencing transition) and great because 2) I went home to sleep.

We went back in at noon the next day. I was up from about 2 to 3.5 cm dialated with 50% effacement and J was -3. The team felt good but wanted to put me on Cytotec(buh-bye birth plan). I responded, but very, very slowly. Next up was Pitocin. They had wireless monitors but the tape was caught in supply chain issues so this began four days of being trapped to a small radius near the bed (buh-bye birth plan). After 2 hours on Pit at 4, my water broke, I got the shakes, I vomited, and it was game time. However, the next check showed that I was softer with 60% effacement and ...5 cm dialated and J was at -3. Skip forward 12 hours of increasing doses of Pit and I finally, finally hit 10 cm, J was finally at zero position, and it was finally time to push.

For reasons no one can explain, after three days of active labor topped with four hours of active pushing, labor stalled at 1.5. I went through four hospital shifts with four midwives and seven nurses. Two of the midwives were amazing and one of the nurses was a goddamned superhero but I did not see my last midwife for 3.5 of the last four hours I was pushing. Yes, I have filed a complaint, no, and explanation was not offered, and the surgeon who performed my Caesarian(buh bye, birth plan!) caught on immediately so I am letting them sort that out.

At 3.5 hours, the OB they brought in (she was spectacular) helped me push for another 40 minutes, declared that I was pushing like a freight train, and that there was absolutely nothing else I could do. Everything was textbook except J's seeming comfort inside me. Why did they let me go so long, you might ask? Remeber those monitors? My BP was rock-solid at 116/64 and J hadn't had a single decceleration in 26 hours of monitoring. We weren't in danger. In fact, we were in so little danger that they pushed

I don't want to step on anybody's toes here, but the amount of non-dad jokes here in this subreddit really annoys me. First of all, dad jokes CAN be NSFW, it clearly says so in the sub rules. Secondly, it doesn't automatically make it a dad joke if it's from a conversation between you and your child. Most importantly, the jokes that your CHILDREN tell YOU are not dad jokes. The point of a dad joke is that it's so cheesy only a dad who's trying to be funny would make such a joke. That's it. They are stupid plays on words, lame puns and so on. There has to be a clever pun or wordplay for it to be considered a dad joke.

Again, to all the fellow dads, I apologise if I'm sounding too harsh. But I just needed to get it off my chest.

There is a poison-coated blade embedded just beneath my heart. Ordinarily, the wound itself would be fatal, but due to present circumstances, it isn’t. I’m actually happy that it’s not, because otherwise, my death would allow Him to take control of my body through his profane, necromantic usurpation—one of his many dark and sorcerous abilities. But his partial possession of me grants my body certain resistances; I am able to endure far more physical trauma than the average human; able to sustain injuries that would kill a stronger, healthier man.

The poison is gradual in its distribution; long-staying in its occupancy of the body. With my resistances, it will take months, perhaps even years to kill me. For that, as grim as it may seem, I am thankful—because those are years the world will be spared his world-shaking iniquity, his calamitous devilry. I will lie here among the rubble of this time-forgotten fane, dying with maddening slowness, while he sleeps—or seethes—within me. When my heart stops, and his spirit awakens, he will take for himself control of my necrotized body, and use its mortis-clenched hands to cast the evilest maledictions; to utter, with my death-dried lips, blasphemies and diabolic incantations memorized from his time as a fledgling incubus under the tutelage of some ultramundane priest.

He desires neither fame nor riches; only the destruction of the human race—and the races of all the peopled planets throughout this galaxy.

I should mention that his residency within my body was not something I willingly allowed. It was forced upon me by a man, a professor Warrington, who, along with two of my closest friends, trapped me within this temple—the Fane of Sanguinity. The betrayal, on part of one of my friends (Alexandra), was not malicious; she, upon learning of the plot, became complicit in it only to save herself—a reason for which I cannot wholeheartedly blame her. I probably would’ve done the same, had I been in her position. The only other option was death—or worse, if professor Warrington’s threats of soul defragmentation are to be believed.

Under the promise of uncovering some rare, anthropologically forgotten artifact of vast antiquity, we were led to the temple by our professor of anthropology; and once there, he briefly related the history of the site, the temple, and those fell members who, centuries ago, congregated within its glimmering, slanted obsidian walls. Therein, under a much younger moon, the cultis

Do your worst!

I'm surprised it hasn't decade.

I've been thinking about my disagreements with standard veganism, and they tend to come down to the idea that standard veganism requires more of the individual than I think a baseline ethical standard should. I consider myself to be a vegan but one who follows more of a minimal interpretation of what veganism requires. Going above and beyond is good, but I don't think doing so should be considered a requirement to be considered a vegan.

I'll go through some examples of my disagreements with standard veganism, and I'll offer the minimal veganism approach as an alternative.

Disagreement 1: Which animals are covered under veganism?

Standard veganism offers two options. The first is that all animals are covered under veganism. The second is that all sentient beings are covered under veganism. Animals are considered to be sentient under this view until proven otherwise.

Both of these views are problematic in their own ways. The first view covers animals which are extremely unlikely to be sentient, such as sponges. In a case where we discovered a sentient plant species, they would not be covered under this view.

The second view reverses the burden of proof, forcing the other side to prove a negative (that an animal isn't conscious). This isn't possible and is a reversal of how the scientific method usually works. In science we typically start from a position of skepticism until convincing evidence is presented. This view often lacks cohesive and coherent criteria for how we would even know an animal is or isn't sentient. Many vegans either rely on intuition, anthropomorphize animals, or point to the presence of a central nervous system without an explanation for how or why this would be sufficient for consciousness.

The minimal veganism view would take a more skeptical approach which is more aligned with how scientific questions are typically approached. It would say that eating animals (and anything else) would be vegan until a bar of evidence is met indicating that the organisms in question are sentient. This approach would use scientific models and theories to determine which animals are sufficiently likely to be conscious such that we are morally obligated to not eat them. According to many compelling models, such evidence is present for vertebrates, arthropods, and cephalopods but is lacking for all other animal groups.

Some models include Neurobiological Naturalism and Unlimited Associative Learning.

Here are some sources for reference:

https:

For context I'm a Refuse Driver (Garbage man) & today I was on food waste. After I'd tipped I was checking the wagon for any defects when I spotted a lone pea balanced on the lifts.

I said "hey look, an escaPEA"

No one near me but it didn't half make me laugh for a good hour or so!

Edit: I can't believe how much this has blown up. Thank you everyone I've had a blast reading through the replies 😂

It really does, I swear!

Because she wanted to see the task manager.

Heard they've been doing some shady business.

BamBOO!

They’re on standbi

Pilot on me!!

Christopher Walken

Nothing, he was gladiator.

Dad jokes are supposed to be jokes you can tell a kid and they will understand it and find it funny.

This sub is mostly just NSFW puns now.

If it needs a NSFW tag it's not a dad joke. There should just be a NSFW puns subreddit for that.

Edit* I'm not replying any longer and turning off notifications but to all those that say "no one cares", there sure are a lot of you arguing about it. Maybe I'm wrong but you people don't need to be rude about it. If you really don't care, don't comment.

Or would that be too forward thinking?

What did 0 say to 8 ?

" Nice Belt "

So What did 3 say to 8 ?

" Hey, you two stop making out "

When I got home, they were still there.

I won't be doing that today!

[Removed]

This morning, my 4 year old daughter.

Daughter: I'm hungry

Me: nerves building, smile widening

Me: Hi hungry, I'm dad.

She had no idea what was going on but I finally did it.

Thank you all for listening.

Where ever you left it 🤷‍♀️🤭

There hasn't been a post all year!

You take away their little brooms

but then I remembered it was ground this morning.

Edit: Thank you guys for the awards, they're much nicer than the cardboard sleeve I've been using and reassures me my jokes aren't stale

It’s pronounced “Noel.”

Why

After all his first name is No-vac

There is a poison-coated blade embedded just beneath my heart. Ordinarily, the wound itself would be fatal, but due to present circumstances, it isn’t. I’m actually happy that it’s not, because otherwise, my death would allow Him to take control of my body through his profane, necromantic usurpation—one of his many dark and sorcerous abilities. But his partial possession of me grants my body certain resistances; I am able to endure far more physical trauma than the average human; able to sustain injuries that would kill a stronger, healthier man.

The poison is gradual in its distribution; long-staying in its occupancy of the body. With my resistances, it will take months, perhaps even years to kill me. For that, as grim as it may seem, I am thankful—because those are years the world will be spared his world-shaking iniquity, his calamitous devilry. I will lie here among the rubble of this time-forgotten fane, dying with maddening slowness, while he sleeps—or seethes—within me. When my heart stops, and his spirit awakens, he will take for himself control of my necrotized body, and use its mortis-clenched hands to cast the evilest maledictions; to utter, with my death-dried lips, blasphemies and diabolic incantations memorized from his time as a fledgling incubus under the tutelage of some ultramundane priest.

He desires neither fame nor riches; only the destruction of the human race—and the races of all the peopled planets throughout this galaxy.

I should mention that his residency within my body was not something I willingly allowed. It was forced upon me by a man, a professor Warrington, who, along with two of my closest friends, trapped me within this temple—the Fane of Sanguinity. The betrayal, on part of one of my friends (Alexandra), was not malicious; she, upon learning of the plot, became complicit in it only to save herself—a reason for which I cannot wholeheartedly blame her. I probably would’ve done the same, had I been in her position. The only other option was death—or worse, if professor Warrington’s threats of soul defragmentation are to be believed.

Under the promise of uncovering some rare, anthropologically forgotten artifact of vast antiquity, we were led to the temple by our professor of anthropology; and once there, he briefly related the history of the site, the temple, and those fell members who, centuries ago, congregated within its glimmering, slanted obsidian walls. Therein, under a much younger moon, the cultis

It was about a weak back.