I find other people’s birth stories intriguing. A bit like when you have a mouth ulcer and you have to keep rubbing your tongue over it, even when it really hurts.
Are they sadistic? Is that why we like to read them? Maybe we find solace in the fact other people went through a longer, more painful labour than you did. Who knows?
I am sure it is a cathartic experience to write a birth story, both for nostalgic purposes (I imagine you forget some details as time goes on) and, especially if you have a particularly harrowing experience, it may halp you cope.
However with my second labour fast approaching while I still haven’t written up my first birth story, I have decided to write the story of Boo’s birth with a bit of poetic license.
I did not look like this after labour with Boo
No pregnant woman wants to read that I was in labour for three weeks, had 375 stitches *down there* and never slept again for the almost four years Boo has been here, do they?
So, Boo’s birth story, the abridged version.
I looked like this
My waters broke while I was in Selfridges and the establishment kindly offered me free goods for Boo’s lifetime.
I felt no pain at all and, just as I reached hospital, I felt the urge to push.
Once happily settled in a candle-lit room filled with aromatherapy essential oils and whale sounds, I sneezed three times and out popped Boo, smiling.
She latched on to the breast immediately and, as we were so well, we were told to get dressed and were out of the door (choosing our first haul from Selfridges) within 20 minutes.
When we arrived home, Hubster spent the next hour preparing a delicious meal which we ate with pink champagne by candle light and enjoyed the first of many full nights sleeps.
I am just hoping our next delivery goes as smoothly. If you need me, I will be hanging around my local car dealership for the next ten weeks.
Just in case.