Why is it that humans like to one-up each other? You tell me about something horrid that happened to you and I have to tell you my horrid story, with more gore than yours. Why is that? This is especially true of women and their birth stories.
Oh the pain! The anguish! The humanity!! You think you’re miserable when you’re pregnant? Just you wait. You’ll be doubly so in labor and be cursing the heavens and wanting to die during the actual delivery. And of course that’s nothing compared to the misery of having a newborn. No siree. With how awful it is to have children it’s a wonder we ever do it at all.
Part of me wonders if childbirth, and other horrible things (like reading Isaiah) are horrible simply because we expect them to be. We go in with certain expectations and then we find and focus on the details that meet those expectations.
I knew labor and delivery would not be the easiest thing I would ever do. But I also knew the odds of it actually killing me were very slim. There are certainly parts that were not fun which I could definitely build up to a horror story if I wanted to. But I don’t. I actually tend to tell them with a humorous twist.
The birth of our daughter was not a horror story. And I refuse to tell it as such.
When I tell the story I mention the really crappy parts, and I move on. I don’t focus on those parts because they aren’t the focus of the story, they aren’t the point of the story, they aren’t the climax of the plot.
The birth. Meeting a brand new human just arrived on this earth from heaven. The most spiritual experience I’ve ever had. That’s the point of the story. And that’s how I intended to always tell it.