By the time I hit the seven-month mark in my first pregnancy, I felt like a walking billboard, sporting a handmade note on my belly that read: “I’m due April 30. No, I don’t know the gender. Yes, I’m feeling great. No, I don’t look pregnant from behind because my uterus is not in my back!”
It was astounding how many people were eager to bombard me with the same three questions that day: When’s your due date? What are you having? Are you feeling alright? And, of course, the classic “Wow! You don’t look pregnant from behind!”
Honestly, they should create maternity shirts for this.
What really amazed me was the number of so-called “experts” who surfaced to share their unsolicited opinions and advice throughout my pregnancy. Each perspective seemed to contradict the last. I received everything from, “It’s a girl, and you’ll go early,” to “Definitely a boy, and prepare for a C-section.” With all this “expert” advice, it’s a wonder we still rely on obstetricians and ultrasounds! For the record, I had a boy, and he arrived naturally eight days early.
Fast forward to my second pregnancy, and I felt the need to add another line to my belly note: “Please spare me your labor horror stories.” As soon as it was obvious that I was pregnant, I was bombarded with tales of labor gone wrong.
I had women recounting how they barely made it to the hospital for their second births, while men shared tales of delivering their babies at home or in a car. I heard about marathon labors that ended in emergency C-sections, and others so rapid that an epidural was out of the question. The stories of blood pressure and preeclampsia were downright unbelievable—one woman claimed her blood pressure hit 600 over 80 (is that even possible?). And the episiotomy tales? They sounded like something from a horror movie—867 stitches, seriously?
So, your OB was out of the country when your water broke? Fantastic. I’ll be sure to remind mine to stay put for the next 40 weeks. Your water broke on a Ferris wheel? Thanks for that tip; I’ll skip amusement parks after 38 weeks!
While I may not fit the stereotype of a mom-to-be in a minivan, this isn’t my first experience with pregnancy. Yet, I find myself anxiously oscillating between the fear of giving birth on a SEPTA train and the dread of being induced to deliver a toddler. With every Braxton-Hicks contraction, my anxiety escalates, and your “helpful” anecdotes are not easing my mind.
I understand the impulse to share stories—it’s a natural instinct to connect and support one another, and I too feel the urge to pass on wisdom. But these labor horror stories disguised as advice are simply not beneficial, especially for pregnant women who might reconsider having children after hearing them. It’s essential to remember that every pregnancy is unique, so why should one woman’s labor experience dictate another’s?
Why should I expect to deliver a 12-pound baby like yours when I’m only 5’4″ and have a completely different body type? Please, now is not the time to regale me with tales of your 46-hour natural birth or how your birthing ball popped mid-contraction.
It may come as a shock, but every individual on this planet is here because women have gone through labor. While it’s great to bond over the shared experience, I’m just not interested in hearing the gory details while I’m on the verge of my own labor.
So, if you feel compelled to share your tale of a “double contraction,” hold off—especially if the expectant mother is timing her “gas pains” to see if they match labor signs. Let’s save those stories for when we can enjoy them over a glass of wine, well after the epidural has worn off, and we can laugh without fear of tearing a stitch or having an accident.
For more insights on home insemination and pregnancy, check out this article and learn about the Cryobaby home insemination kit for a deeper dive into the subject. Additionally, Johns Hopkins Fertility Center is a fantastic resource for anyone seeking information on pregnancy and fertility.
Summary
Sharing labor horror stories with expectant mothers can increase anxiety and fear instead of providing support. While the instinct to share experiences is natural, it’s crucial to remember that every pregnancy is unique. Instead of recounting traumatic experiences, let’s wait until after delivery to swap tales and enjoy a good laugh.