So, this thing with giving birth, seems to be a pretty touchy subject. And no, not like stuff we shouldn’t talk about. More like, don’t talk bad about how I give birth! Worse, “if you don’t agree with my choice of birthing methods. I will cut you.”
I am old.
This is what the new batch of our babies have to look forward to.
They have an old mom.
And she’s way behind the times.
They will go to school with kids that were birthed into swimming pools… In their living rooms! Am I new? I am just hearing about this. Well, I mean I saw the Duggars doing “natural” deliveries in a bathtub… I still say that is a stretch. Probably the least natural occurrence that has happened to my body was childbirth. The most beautiful gift of life I have experienced?
I highly recommend it. In all fairness, I think the only women that can declare they “naturally” delivered their children are the woman that does it in a hut or rice paddy… and the occasional delivery in an elevator or taxi cab.
Furthermore, and again, this is just me, I feel like children born into swimming pools are going to be very demanding.
Seriously, in my day an inflatable swimming pool meant, party. So if the very minute you are born, you get to go swimming, in your living room? That kid is going to expect nothing less than Disney Land for every single event. Lost a tooth? Hawaii is your only option.
So the other day I was at Target, buying diapers, and this VERY pregnant young woman says, “Ma’am, do you know where they keep the inflatable birthing pools?”
Not only do I not know where these are, but I also am not entirely sure what she’s talking about.
“Um, I am sorry? Maybe, lawn and garden?”
This gets me laughed at and pitied. “Oh! You don’t know what I mean?” Eye roll, giggle, arm pat and an implied ‘you stupid old lady.’
“An inflatable birthing pool is a pool you blow up so you can birth your baby naturally in your home. The baby simply floats from the birthing canal into the water.”
There’s a number of comments I would LOVE to make at this point… starting with “simply floats from the birthing canal?” and ending with “do you blow up the pool? Like with your Lamaze breathing?” Instead, I say, “try pushing that red button for an associate.” I say associate instead of worker so I don’t look so stupid. This is wasted on her. She waddles over and pushes the button and I decide to loiter. Target has everything, but this, I gotta see.
So the rest of the conversation went like this:
Associate: Can I help you?
Preggo: I am looking for a pink inflatable birthing pool.
Associate: We don’t carry those in the store. I think you’d have to go online.
Preggo: Well I am due any day? I don’t know if I have time to order one.
Associate: (blank stare) Okay… did you look in sporting goods? We may have some inflatable wading pools back there, let me run back there and look…
Preggo: (to me) Well, I am surprised they don’t carry these, everyone is moving toward natural childbirth. Do you have children?
I pray, Jesus, allow me to find out this woman’s name and social security number so I can make sure my child is never in the same school district as this woman’s spawn.
Me: Yes, six.
Preggo: What!?! SIX? Did you deliver naturally?
Me: Naturally? Like giving birth into an inflatable pool? No.
Preggo: You didn’t use drugs did you?!?!
Me: Recreationally? No. But I had an epidural.
Preggo: OH MY GOSH! That’s not good for babies! Are your children okay?
Me: Define okay?
I get the eye roll again.
Associate: Ma’am, we have an inflatable Elmo pool?
Associate: No, just Elmo.
Preggo: Grrrr! I need pink. I had a dream I gave birth in a pink birthing pool!
Associate: I am sorry ma’am that is all we have.
She storms/waddles off. Associate and I are left staring at each other. We have no words for this encounter.
Me: Clearly, her mother had an epidural when she delivered her.
Associate: Can you come with me to the break room? Cause no one is going to believe me.
They didn’t believe me either.
May your floors be sticky and your calling ordained. Love, Jami
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