This evening I laughed so much it hurt I laughed until I cried. I laughed so much I couldn’t breathe. It was my hubby’s fault. We were having one of our many discussions about labour and this time reminiscing on P2s birth. For me, it all went by in a bit of a blur but for hubby it’s clearly imprinted on his memory and not necessarily in the best of ways. Here’s how he describes childbirth in a very honest and brutal way:
“Everyone says childbirth is beautiful and natural but there was nothing natural from where I was standing. You was hot so had no top on, your tits were hanging either side of your belly. You projectile vomited everywhere. You were making strange noises and pooping everywhere. Then once the baby arrived I had to hold her whilst you took a blood bath. It literally looked like someone had been murdered.”
He worded it so truthfully. Childbirth so honestly laid across the table in one mere paragraph. Books, people and the internet attempt to prepare you for childbirth but nothing is quite as accurate as the real thing and nothing quite as accurate as being the birthing partner, especially when that person is your husband and is allowed to remind you of the embarrassing, icky parts of labour.
It’s been an amusing night, has left me a little anxious now that I’ve remembered how gruesome it was but at least I’ll have my honest man to tell me the story over and over in ten years time.