Over the past six months or so, I've been told all sorts of things "they don't tell you." Like what will happen to my boobs, which will either disappear entirely, or shapeshift into two deflated bread bags. Or how, according to one friend, "they don't let you leave the hospital until you poop." And don't forget the ripped stitches that will inevitably happen on that maiden bathroom voyage.
When I'm not hearing about the wreckage about to befall my body, I'm listening to delivery stories that rival the gore fest of Alien. "I still can't get over the image of seeing blood on my doctor's eyeglasses," whispered one friend in that voice normally heard only in tents, with a flashlight under the chin, in front of a troop of Girl Scouts.
Why, I wonder, do people, do friends, feel so compelled to tell me such horror stories?
You know, i agree completely, but I've come to realized that women feel a sense of camaraderie with others who have been through childbirth. Its almost a displaying of battle scars on warriors when women start exchanging stories... a way of saying " hey Ive experienced this, but here's how it went with me." Its an extraordinary thing, regardless of whether you approach it with fear, eagerness, sadness or joy there's nothing like it. Ive realized this, and now when people start sharing their stories, i sit, smile, nod appreciatively and know that for the most part their intentions are good.
Answer by Jaliceawrites at 5:22 PM on May. 10, 2011
Answer by wildflowers25 at 5:43 PM on May. 10, 2011
Answer by momtobe522 at 7:44 PM on May. 10, 2011
Answer by krissii at 11:08 PM on May. 10, 2011
Answer by amberpatterson at 11:22 PM on May. 10, 2011
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