Nay to the Nay Sayers
I have this image of myself in the first week home from the hospital after birthing the babe scarred into my brain. I am in the shower. I am crying, bleeding and uncontrollably spraying the wall directly in front of me with my newly flowing knockers. My poor husband is standing in the bathroom overly rocking our screaming pink wonder, and simultaneously trying to calm me down. It is a damn funny thought to me now, though 6 months ago it was hell.
I tell this story to most of my friends hoping to get a laugh. And most of the time, I do. But I have started to realize that there are a select few with whom I cannot share this story: the 9 months swollen, to-be Mommies, and those who just fired one out of the shoot. Among other things in my mommy-hood journey, I am learning the art of discretion. Sarcastic realism is the last thing those poor souls need when they are in the trenches (or about to be).
Yet somehow, when it was my turn, I couldn’t hear enough from Mommies about What I was in for. “Oh,” they would say with that look, “just wait,” in their condescending tones. What is it about some women that makes them want to tell you everything horrendous that happened during their birth or after when you are one week from your due date? And as you stand there, swollen, feet hurting and peeing your pants from baby pressure listening to them go on and on about how they “ripped from here to there” and how they “nearly died of blood-loss and oh, did I mention what happened to the baby?”you try to breathe and do a few Kegels in order to distract yourself and avoid bitch slapping them.Continued on the next page