Turbulence and belly rubbing

When you are riding in an airplane and you feel the scariest turbulence of your life... Do you pull out a parachute from your carry on and jump off? No.

When you are in the dentist, getting a root canal, and it seems like your dentist is drilling something in your skull... Do you get up half way through the operation and say you had enough? No.

Pregnancy is sorta like that. You can't quit half way just because you are scared of the birthing process. You have to suck it up and ride it out.

Every expecting mother is aware of this. We know we will have to either push a human out through an impossibly small hole or have our guts sit on a side table while a doctor does his thing with a deep cut that will leave an ugly scar for, like, ever.

We've seen the videos. We have the books. We are living in the same planet.

So why is it that veteran mothers find it so vital to share their horror stories?

Everywhere I turn, someone wants to tell me how terribly awful their deliveries were while they rub my belly.

Don't get me wrong. I love hearing about the ones that didn't feel much pain or that were able to give birth by themselves. That makes me believe it is doable and that I can come out alive on the other side. I have a super hero friend (a real super hero; not the kind that only smells farts far away - check out the post named "Super Hero"), that had her baby in her kitchen, by herself. She is so calm when she tells the story that I wonder if she is still high from the shock.

What I don't like is the free stories... The ladies I barely know that show up on my face from out of nowhere with their hands full of fingers aiming to touch my belly (it's still my body, you know?) and go on to tell me that having the epidural is a moot point; that I will feel pain regardless, and that delivering the placenta equals extracting the claws of a stubborn and humongous leach.

So here is a note to all the moms out there: we, first time moms, don't need to hear your perplex stories unless you had an orgasm delivering.

Also, please don't touch our bodies without our permission. I don't care that it was OK in your generation or in your culture. In mine there is something called privacy, or personal bubble, meaning, if you step too close, you may get punched on the face.

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