I’m not a fan of sharing birth stories. Whenever I find myself in those discussions, things start to feel a bit off. “My contractions were excruciating, but the medication was fantastic. The pushing was quite an ordeal, and then — boom! — a baby emerged.” And honestly, that’s about where my interest ends. Birth, for me, was a clinical necessity, culminating in a small human exiting my body.
Hooray, the baby is here! Now, let’s move on.
Don’t get me wrong; I recognize that childbirth is a significant milestone. It granted me my two amazing kids, so of course, I appreciate it immensely. Before birth, I was just me; after birth, I became a mother. So yes, hooray for birth! But for me, the experience was simply a means to an end.
Sure, it was a remarkable physical accomplishment, and I’m thankful that everything went smoothly. Still, I didn’t dwell on it much. A few weeks into motherhood, I ventured out of my self-imposed hibernation, eager to connect with other moms. I joined every parenting group, church gathering, and playground meet-up I could find, seeking adult conversation.
To my surprise, with a plethora of topics available, the chatter always circled back to — you guessed it — birth stories. Every single time! Seriously, ladies? We’ve just met, and now we’re discussing perineal stitches?
Please, no.
Clearly, childbirth is a bonding topic for women. Unfortunately for me, when the Motherhood Fairy was dusting the “care about” charm on those birth-story enthusiasts, I must have been overlooked. Every time I’m in a group of parents, this subject comes up, and a little piece of my spirit diminishes.
Isn’t it challenging enough just getting out of the house with little ones in tow? With their endless demands and diaper changes, for goodness’ sake, can we chat about something more adult? Like, did you catch the latest episode of Grey’s Anatomy? Or how about that new coffee shop that just opened? YOU ALL LIKE COFFEE, RIGHT?!
But nope, here we go again with the birth narratives. Awesome. We’ve known each other for all of ten minutes while our kids play in the sandbox. Maybe we should save the epidural discussions for at least the third playdate, right? Call me old-fashioned.
I won’t judge you for your enthusiasm, mamas. It’s just that… I don’t get out much! I adore my kids as much as any mom, but I’m still recovering from my last delivery, and I could really use some grown-up time. So can we please steer clear of birth stories?
In fact, let’s talk about anything other than babies. No milestone updates, no discussions about diaper contents, and definitely no whining about sleep deprivation (though I admit, that one is somewhat relatable). Honestly, at this point, I’d even dive into politics! 2016, AMIRITE?
Let’s just agree that since we’re all here, sporting messy buns and sipping coffee, it’s clear we’re all mothers. We’ve all made it to this playground with kids of varying ages, all of whom arrived in this world through some means or another. Fantastic!
Let’s skip the intricate details of that journey and relish the fact that our children are extraordinary, but wow, we are exhausted. And there are countless other topics we could be exploring right now. Like, did you hear Target will soon be serving wine? Just saying…