You won’t find me writing many posts about pregnancy and labour – it’s not really my genre – but something tickled me this week so I thought I’d share it.
When I was expecting Tin Box Tot I remember feeling lots of anxieties about childbirth. Would I be able to bear the pain? Would we get to hospital in time? And would I know what to do when my baby was put in my arms for the first time?
All reasonable things to worry about. However, this week I was chatting to some other expectant mums and it gave me flashbacks to a few of the more irrational things that crossed my mind towards the end of my first pregnancy.
I thought I’d share them for giggles:
Would I have time to shave my legs before I needed to go to hospital?
I don’t know who I thought I was going to meet on the maternity ward, but I was worried about being caught with prickly thighs.
How would I shield my modesty?
Pah! How silly I was to think I’d care who was inspecting ‘down there’ 30 hours after my waters had broken?! If they could help me push out my baby they were welcome to take a look.
How would I know how to push?
I’m not sure what spare muscles I thought I would discover when I was required to push with my nether parts but I remember wondering about it. Of course the reality is that you push with the same bits that you use whenever you have something to expel from that region. Which brings me on to…
Would I poo?
I have no idea if I did. Mr Tin Box has blanked the whole ‘extra stuff coming out’ bit from his memory and the midwives do an amazing job of keeping everything tidy, so I’ll never know. But when you get to the crunch, this is the last thing on your mind.
Would I have time to reapply make-up in between contractions?
I blame One Born Every Minute
for this brain fart. You see far too many ladies in labour on TV plastered in make up. In reality, we all just end up looking like red, sweaty blobs – and that’s OK!
I can laugh about all this now that I’m an old hand at this pregnancy malarkey. On the flip side, I can understand why these niggles popped into my head in the first place. Child birth is the least glamorous thing I’ve ever had to do. But my word, it’s all worth it!
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