What You Don’t Want To Know About Childbirth
I know its kinda early, but as I feel this little sprite or leprechaun ( we find out next week!) move around in there, I’ve been remembering that I will, at some point, have to get him/her out.
They say that nature has programmed women to forget the pain and process of labour for the most part, otherwise we would likely never make another child. Bullshit. I remember every second of it. Except the part where I think I blacked out for a couple of minutes between the upstairs bathroom, where I was naked, to being clothed and sitting in the front seat of the truck with my water breaking. How Husband got me dressed and down the stairs I will never know. Maybe he dragged me. I’ve never asked, and he’s never revealed it, so I probably just don’t want to know.
Anyway, call me crazy, but I like to birth my children the old fashioned way. No drugs, no interventions. Just some very effective new swear words and some elbow grease. Actually, what I wish they would have greased was my vagina, because then the baby may have slid out without that awful burning feeling. Too much info? Stop reading immediately. It’s gonna get worse.
So, as I look forward to the birth of my next child in a few months, I’ll
warn reminisce to myself and inform all of you about a few horrible details pleasantries about childbirth that nobody ever really talks about.
1. If this is your first baby, and you are planning to go to the hospital, the nurses will assume you are fucking retarded. As if you can’t tell that you are having contractions. As if you can’t tell that it is back labour. As if you can’t tell that there is a human being halfway out of your vagina. Because it’s your first baby, so you are automatically over reacting. Guess what, bitches? Yesterday, there wasn’t a human halfway out of my vagina. And that felt different.
2. Remember when you used to work out? Before you weighed like 200 pounds and were made up of 50% water retention? And you’d be doing squats with your Jane Fonda workout tape ( yes it was that long ago) and she would say “go for the burn” ? This is like the ultimate burn. You’re pushing, and your husband will exclaim ” I can see the head” and you think thank God it’s almost over. And then it happens. One of those bitches that didn’t believe you were really in labour sets your vagina on fire. So you stop pushing. And then they yell at you. So you push again until the head comes out, and someone puts the fire out.
3. The placenta. Oh the placenta. Nobody ever talks about how after you have the baby, they take her away and everyone gets to coo and measure and hang out with her, while your feet stay in the stir ups awaiting the birth of this cool little organ. So you get to have contractions again, and give birth again. And then, inevitably someone will ask you. They will ask you what you want to do with your placenta. Excuse me? What the fuck do you mean? As in did I bring a onesie for the placenta to be dressed in?
Please forgive me for telling you this, but some crazy bitches take it home. They use it to fertilize their garden. Or they eat it. I’m not even kidding. I’m all for natural birth, but last time I checked I wasn’t part hyena or something. I mean, if I had part of my liver removed I wouldn’t take it home and fry it up with some onions for dinner. Christ.
4. Bring a snack. Hell, bring a “two-can-dine” meal from A &W. You will never be prepared for how ravenously hungry you will be immediately after giving birth. Fruit and cookies will not do. You need a burger and a milkshake just to get started.
5. The initial breast feed. So you’re done birthing the baby, and you figure everyone just saw your cookie split in half, so you’re not really giving a shit about feeling too modest. And then your parents show up with the cameras and video cameras and they are sooo excited. And you’re holding your baby, and the little thing slides its way down and finds your nipple and settles in for a snack. And then you hear one of the camera click shut and realize that your tits are hanging out everywhere and your DAD is in the room. And now you’ve scarred both of you for life. Sorry about that, Dad. One day when you’re 105 and I’m helping you off the john, I’ll accidentally see your junk and we’ll call it even, ok?
I don’t mean to scare you off. There is something absolutely horrific and yet absolutely amazing about birthing your child naturally. It is the most disgusting and empowering experience you will ever have. Which is why I’m doing it again. Because it reminds me that if I can handle that, then I can handle anything.