So I'm a Wuss

Is it normal to be thinking about child birthing methods so much before you're even thinking of, like, actually trying to even get pregnant? Girls do that, right? We grow up planning our weddings, the color scheme of our dream home, and which hole our children will come out of.

The reason I bring this up is because the Netflix goblin kept insisting I watch "The Business of Being Born," so I did, and it was all medical birth isn't as cool as natural birth; natural birth is empowering, and I'm like yeah, dude, I want to be empowered; I can be badass like that. I mean, I watched my friend L go through a natural birth and it was totally horrifying but at least, like, 60% totally awesome.

For like twenty-four whole hours I was that kind of woman who could totally stand there in the middle of her own living room with just her husband and a midwife watching as she reached down and pulled her child from her own vagina. And maybe bit through the chord before attaching the kid to her breast for sustenance. Maybe.


The thing about that whole scenario is that, in my head, I am a dreamer. I go crazy places and do crazy things. My body has my back though; my body is a realist. And yesterday my body had had enough of this baloney and decided to bring me back down to Earth, calling upon the demon inside my uterus and giving me the worst cramps ever. Over sharing? Whatever. I totally threw up my grapes and donut breakfast all up in my lap. I hear this is normal monthly behavior for some women. If you're one of those women, I'm sorry. So, so sorry. I don't know what you did in a past life to deserve this.

I'm convinced these two events are connected, this documentary watching and uterus shattering, and am reminded that women who are awesome enough to have their kids without any pain killers are also crazy. My kid's middle name is going to be Epidural.


Surely this is a foreshadowing to what kind of mother I'll be. I'm no martyr! Already I live by the motto "part of taking care of the kids is taking care of their mommy."

Then again, my mother likes to remind me that I came out of her far too fast for any drugs to be administered. And that my head was [is] abnormally large.


...Maybe I'll just put off having kids for five more years.