Birth stories

I can tell by the gentle whoosh of air that the title of this post just sent about half of you dashing out the door. Which is fine. Birth stories aren't for everyone.

For those who are left, here is a great birth story I just read. I cannot remotely relate to it, but then again I can. As can anyone who has given birth. (Just read it...it's funny. Great blog.)

My birth stories are kind of dull. I had moments of timing contractions, sure, but they didn't come to anything. There was no gush of water, no frantic dash to the hospital. No dramatic entrance, no raised voices. Each time I gave birth, it was more like a doctor's appointment. I sat in a waiting room, then was calmly led to another room to be prepped, then wait some more. I even had time (and the pain relievers) to be bored.

Nobody talks about boredom in association with childbirth. Certainly not one of the parents, and definitely not the mother. But I'm here to tell you I was bored during labor.

I've known people who know every detail of their entrance into the world. (I am one of them.) I've also known people who barely know what town they were born in.

Most of what fiction tells us of childbirth is the same tale, over and over. The water breaking. Mayhem. Slapstick comedy, or violins and drama. Screaming, too...always screaming.

I didn't scream. Not once. I cried, both times. But that's as close to the stereotypical "lady in childbirth" as I came.

I think it's important that we mothers tell our stories, rather than letting writers retell the same tired yarn over and over. Because not all birth is the same. Because there is too much secrecy about it. (I had to find out from a comedian that there was a good chance I'd poop during labor.* Seriously...this is need-to-know information, people.)

My kids will know everything. I went through a lot to bring them here, and I want them to know that. I am hoping they will have children of their own someday, and I want them to know what to expect.

Besides, every superhero needs an origin story.


*I didn't, by the way. One of the bennies of the hack-and-slash approach to childbirth. There aren't many, so you take them where you can.