By the time I reached the seventh month of my first pregnancy, my belly sported a homemade Post-it note proclaiming: “Due April 30. No, I don’t know the gender. Yes, I feel fantastic. No, I don’t look pregnant from behind; my uterus isn’t in my backside (at least, last time my doctor checked).”
Even the most well-intentioned folks got on my nerves after being asked the same three questions for the umpteenth time: When is your due date? What are you having? Are you feeling okay? Wow! You don’t look pregnant from behind. Honestly, they should market maternity shirts like that!
I was astonished by the “experts” who seemed to emerge from everywhere to share their insights during my pregnancy. Everyone had their own theory—everything from “It’s definitely a girl, and you’ll be early” to “It’s a boy, and brace yourself for a C-section.” With all these “experts” around, I’m surprised we still rely on obstetricians and ultrasounds! For the record, I had a boy, and he arrived naturally and a week early.
Fast forward to my second pregnancy, and I found myself adding a line to my Post-it: “Please, spare me your labor horror stories.” As soon as I started to look undeniably pregnant, the stories flooded in. Women recounted how they barely made it to the hospital to deliver their second child. Men chimed in with tales of delivering babies at home or, even worse, in a car en route to the hospital. I heard about marathon labors that ended in emergency C-sections and others so swift there was no time for an epidural. Blood pressure horror stories? Oh, I heard those too—like one woman who reported a reading of 600 over 80 (is that even possible?). And don’t even get me started on the episiotomy tales; they sounded straight out of a ’70s slasher film—867 stitches up to one woman’s eyebrows!
Really? Your doctor was on a safari when your water broke? I’ll be sure to ask mine to hand over her passport for the next 40 weeks. Your water broke on a Ferris wheel? Thanks for the heads-up; I’ll steer clear of amusement parks after week 38.
Look, I may not be driving a minivan full of kids, but this isn’t my first rodeo. Yet, I still found myself oscillating between fears of giving birth two months early on a train and going so late that my doctor has to induce the delivery of a small toddler. Honestly, all my worst fears about labor and delivery were amplified by these “helpful” anecdotes. As if I didn’t already worry about missing the signs of labor and unintentionally giving birth while… well, you know.
As a woman, I understand the urge to share. I really do. I even feel compelled to tell expectant mothers, despite what they learn in birthing classes, that they might not recognize when their water breaks—especially if it’s not their first child and they tend to “leak” a bit. That instinct to share stems from our desire to help and the satisfaction of recounting our own experiences.
However, these labor horror stories disguised as helpful advice are not beneficial at all—especially for pregnant women who might reconsider having kids after hearing how terrifying labor can be. We can all agree that no two pregnancies are identical, so why should one woman’s labor experience dictate another’s?
Why should I prepare to deliver a 12-pound baby like yours when I’m 5-foot-4 and built like a twig? Please. My anxiety about labor is already spiking with every Braxton-Hicks contraction—now is not the time for you to recount how you went “natural” with your birthing ball for 46 hours or that your ball popped mid-contraction.
Surprisingly, the number of people on this planet corresponds directly to the number of times women have given birth. No doubt, enduring labor is a common bond that unites us, and it can be enjoyable to share both the good and the bad aspects of childbirth. I love a good labor story as much as anyone, but not while I’m on the brink of my own experience.
So, the next time you feel the urge to regale a pregnant woman with tales of double contractions, think twice. Especially if she’s anxiously watching the clock, trying to determine if her “gas pains” are real labor. Let’s save those stories for a night out over a glass of wine, long after the epidural has worn off, when we can laugh without the fear of tearing a stitch or having an accident.
For more insights on pregnancy and home insemination, check out this excellent resource from WomensHealth.gov or explore CryoBaby, an authority on the topic. And if you want to dive deeper into the intricacies of labor, you can find more engaging content on our other blog post at Intracervical Insemination.
Summary:
This humorous piece discusses the frustrations of hearing labor horror stories during pregnancy. It highlights how well-meaning anecdotes can amplify anxiety rather than provide helpful advice. The author emphasizes that each pregnancy is unique and suggests saving those stories for later, when they can be shared in a light-hearted manner.