I find the whole pregnancy thing extremely fascinating and rather similar to the Internet: beautiful and extremely clever but the actual ins and outs of how it all works are way above me. I want to know the necessary and nothing more.
However , in a world where sharing is caring , I do have a slight issue with people (women) sharing their birth stories whilst I try to nurse my morning cuppa and prepare for the day.
It all happened a few weeks ago .....
It was a regular weekday morning , I had arrived at work , eaten my breakfast , chit chatted about the important things in life like the Kardashian's , the price of petrol and the fact that I seriously needed a new pair of tights. Standard.
I innocently went upstairs to retrieve a file , leaving my two female colleagues happily working away at their computers. I grabbed the file from my advisors desk but as I was half way down the stairs I heard a female voice I did not recognise...
"Oh they had to use forceps on me ... quite a lot of vaginal tearing"
Are you frickin' kidding me?! HOW LONG WAS I UPSTAIRS FOR?!
It turns out only a matter of minutes , that was all it has taken for this stranger to infiltrate our defences (the door) and erupt into the rather graphic story of how she gave birth.
I froze at the door... and made eye contact with my colleague Steph , searching for a sign that I was not alone in this pain. I was not disappointed. Steph returned my look of i-want-to-vomit. My office manager however , had recently given birth herself and looked totally engrossed in the conversation.
I made my way over to my desk , being careful not to interrupt the strangers tale of after births and placenta's. At this point I would rather have chewed my own arm off than taken a sip from my cup of tea which was sitting on my desk staring up at me.It seemed to have turned from builders tea brown to a murky shade of grey more commonly associated with dish water than a hot beverage. I pushed it to the side.
In my eyes , there are just some places where birth talk is just not appreciated. In a room full of mothers? Please talk to you hearts content. In an office , filled with people you have never met before? Please , just ask us about the weather and move on.
It turns out the birthing story woman was here for a meeting with one of the advisors , not just to ruin my morning. Soon she was ushered into the meeting room as we tried to get back into the swing of thinking about pensions rather than pregnancy.
I honestly have nothing but admiration for women that adjust their whole entire beings into becoming mothers: their bodies , their careers and their relationships all undergo a massive change in order to raise a baby. In a society where teenage pregnancy is witnessed as often as the common cold , it is reassuring to find 20 or 30 something women bringing up babies in stable homes filled with nothing but love and happiness.
I do not however , need to hear the graphic story of how little Timmy shot out your hippo-yawning vagina like an Olympic skier.
|A hippo yawning or a birthing lesson? Forget "opening like a flower" this isn't the 50's , you need to open that bad boy like this old fellow.|