When I was pregnant and on bed rest with Holden (the little sucker didn’t want to stay put), since I knew absolutely nothing about giving birth, had a total of zero friends with children, and opted out of doing a hospital tour (big mistake!)- I knew only what I had seen on TV and in the movies.
For a full two months I was completely obsessed with “A Baby Story”– I HAD to see every single episode- I HAD to know when and how they went into labor and I HAD to see how they ended… even though they all ended with, duh: a baby. How exciting, her water broke at Wal-Mart! I know some people think that is nasty and embarrassing- but what a memory to take along with you.
Every birth, no matter how long the labor (only told to you by a little caption of “13 hours later, after mom-to-be slept peacefully all night” at the bottom of the screen)- always came off, to me at least, as angelic. Easy. Not quite a peace of cake- but damn, if that’s all birth was gonna be? I could do this! In the f’ing bag, people.
I was livin’ high on a wonderful fluffy cloud shaped like a baby until Thomas and I had the fabulous idea to go to the movies with some friends of ours to see “Knocked Up.”
You know how in horror movies during the really scary parts, the parts where you KNOW someone is about to get their head hacked off with a cleaver, you cover your eyes while shrieking in a state of terror, only peeking out through a crack in your fingers when you think the coast is clear?
That is what the birthing scene in “Knocked Up” was to me. Down I stared at my now gigantic belly that was filled with a tiny human sitting directly on my bladder (I mean, really. I got up twice to pee during that movie) and I thought “holy shit… Is THAT what I’m in for???!”
Although I wanted to believe it was going to be a fairytale, reality simply had to sink in. Reality is a fuckface. At that point, the only part that seemed appealing to me was FINALLY getting a full night of sleep in the hospital before giving birth like in “A Baby Story” and then getting to break Thomas’ fingers, cursing the shit out of Thomas for DOING THIS TO ME while I was looking like Linda Blair in the Exorcist trying to squeeze this kid out like all of the movie-births insisted I’d be doing; and then everything would be beautiful and happy and all of our first family pictures would look totally amazing and we’d put them on the wall and show them off to everyone. Happily ever after!
Many an internal pep talk was had. We could do this! We, being me and my vagina, that is.
There was so much fear about the unknown I had (what? I was CONFUSED!), but so much excitement about having a big dramatic beautiful enthralling hilarious birthing story to tell everyone. In my mind it would be like Indiana Jones mixed with Cinderella… only with more placenta and the Prince Charming would be shooting from my hooha covered in my gunk- but it was going to be like a MOVIE!
And then it happened. Only it didn’t. I went to the hospital to be induced, then laid there for 6 hours waiting for ANYTHING to occur, got my sac poked with a stick to break my water FOR me, then a few hours later- baby Holden. Oh, and I didn’t look like I’d just broken a light sweat with perfect un-smeared eyeliner and beautifully messy hair that you know was styled to LOOK messy so it still looks fantastic. No no. Just no.
Second time around? I went into labor in bed. I thought I had to poop. We drove to the hospital down the road, I pooped some more, my epidural sucked ass, and a few hours later- Parker.
What the shit? I WAS LIED TO! Baby Story, you done me wrong! Movie births- you’re full of shit!
My water didn’t dramatically break in public. I didn’t give birth on the side of the road on the way to the hospital because we just couldn’t make it to the hospital fast enough. I didn’t get to sleep. AT ALL. I wanted to scream and curse and punch the egg-fertilizer in the face, but I was in so much pain I didn’t even CARE whose fault it was. There was no doctor mix up because mine lied to me so she could go on vacation. I didn’t have to share the room with another laboring couple with no shame who wanted to go all bare vagina’d together and see everything, and I didn’t breastfeed the wrong kid. I also didn’t frighten my husband into fainting and the after birth pictures look like my face is melting. If there were a freaky Halloween costume of myself- that face would have been it (and yes, I just weaved who the hell knows how many movies and shows together.)
Yeah yeah, movies are supposed to be over dramatic- because who would watch a movie with some boring ass birth- but you’re making us all look PSYCHOTIC!
And TV births? Hellooooooo editing room floor! Labor is so easy and beautiful and magical and wonderful and there is no face melting or breaking all of the blood vessels in your face because the lower half of your body went numb and you have NO idea if your pushing is pushing. WHERE THE HELL WAS ALL THAT, HUH??
Yeah yeah, giving birth is a beautiful thing… once you get passed the poop and maybe the barf and the fluids and the afterbirth- SURE, it’s beautiful- but you’re making all of us look PSYCHOTIC!
NO ONE GIVES BIRTH LIKE THAT! And if you do.. well, maybe YOU should be on A Baby Story instead of that fluffy puffy snuggly non face-melting “let’s visit with the whole family and then just easily push this sucker out” crap they tricked me into thinking it would be.
My birth story could have been epic. It could have been exciting! Enthralling! Magical! But no. Producers and writers and shitheads had to step in and blow me out of the water with their ridiculous dramatized over the top versions of what squeezing a miniature human out of your vajayjay is really like and ruined it all.
I can’t even watch that crap without snarking at it. DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME?
I don’t care if it’s ugly, or disgusting, or if there’s poop coming out, or lacking of curse-words and hand crushing and blame throwing and Linda Blair possessions and speaking in tongue- THAT IS BIRTH! And then you get a baby- BOOM! Silver lining! There’s your mother-badword story! Put THAT in a movie. Assholes.
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.
Parenthood is when you start counting the minutes to bed time before 11am.
ALL the Movies Revealed at Disney’s D23 Expo! goo.gl/fb/Bdr8vT
WHY WOULD I LIE pic.twitter.com/kEmQYtl1mi
Overheard the boys getting dressed this morning- 7yo: I remember one time I put on all red & mommy said I looked like a used tampon oops.