I’m already penning mine. It’s going to be set in the Amazon with only birdsong for pain relief.
I’ll write how we’re back at home eating quinoa seeds and spinach mere hours after he arrives, my toddler having sprouted angel wings and flown around cleaning the house, preparing dinners, picking up spills.
I will be totally unscathed. The Virgin Mary didn’t need stitches did she? I mean, I don’t remember that in the Bible.
As much as I love (and I really do LOVE) seeing little baby newborn faces in my newsfeed, and long to hear that friends of varying degrees are doing well and not completely traumatised by the whole experience, on occasion still pops up the little “go me!”. “Are you as good as THIS?”
“Born naturally” is the most common. As if we’re all on there edge of our seats wanting to know the exact process your or your wife’s vagina went through during birth.
“No stitches required!” sings another. This is a brag about the STRETCHINESS of one’s vagina. Let’s take a moment to let that sink in.
“Home in a jiffy” and worse still “born at home” (are you people mad?!) as well as the old faithful “no pain relief required”. Well, mumma, let me tell you. You missed OUT.
I’m dead pleased for all of these women, but really, are you expecting us to clap?
Back to us lesser mortals who have children in hospital with, you know, pain relief, and don’t go home for maybe a day or two because our birth canal (EUGH) just wasn’t damn wide enough to pass an 8lb baby’s head.
Yes, back to us who got chopped in half or cut in two or had suckers or pincers or ferrets inserted, smoke wafted, anything tried to try to get that sucker our.
It’s not that we are jealous that you didn’t get to enjoy the pain relief – nay – I adore hearing about birthing stories, from the 4-hour popped-it-out to the 36-hour slogs.
It’s just that with those little Facebook posts on day 2, we – I – feel that in those posts the silent next sentence is “aren’t I fucking GREAT?”
It’s just not British. And it doesn’t make a goddamn difference to anything. You might as well post what shape the baby’s fingerprints are for all the difference it makes to me. And it certainly doesn’t make you better, stronger or more of a woman than to women with different birth stories.
You so rarely see the “it took 18 hours, 24 surgeons and a barracuda to get this little chap out! He was so intent on staying in there I had to go under general, didn’t even see the baby for two days and then had a hard time breastfeeding! Cheers!” post.
I want to hear you had your baby, really I do. I want to know you’re ok, really I do. But for the VAST majority of people in my newsfeed, that’s all the info I need, thanks.