I have three children, but have never had a natural birth. Before you accuse me of being “too posh to push” just know this – I had gestational diabetes with 2 of them and my first “large” baby was breached. C-sections were my fate.
I never got to know how it felt to be a week overdue and to sit at my designer kitchen table, in my gorgeous silk dressing gown with my perfectly manicured nails and coiffed hair, chatting with my Matt Damon look-alike husband, when my “plug” popped and my waters delicately leaked from my matching silk designer panties. I never got to feel what it was like for my husband to lift me from said leather and chrome chair and gently me place my lightly soiled pert tooshie onto my freshly folded towel, neatly draped over the seat of our BMW convertible car and have my husband all rosey-cheeked speed through the dark streets. I never got to watch the amusement on the police officer’s face when he pulled us over only to see I was in labour and then switch his lights and sirens on the patrol car and escort us to the hospital. I never got to sit in the front seat giggling nervously, stopping to occasionally pant and squeal “ouchie” while listening to jazz classics. I never got to push three times and watch the baby shoot neatly out of my vagina, all clean and ready for the cameras, while my husband paced nervously, drank scotch and smoked cigars with the other husbands. You know like all the movies. That’s how natural child birth is isn’t it?
I was swollen, wore an ugly hospital gown and got my stomach cut open. I was much like a stoned beached-whale. And I got to do that three times.
It wasn’t until the third time that I realised what I had been truly missing. It wasn’t the water breaking, the labour pains or the pushing. I had never seen my placenta. So, while I lay there cradling my newborn baby, I proudly demanded: “I want to see my placenta. Get it for me and show me. Now.” I remember, as the nurse showed it to me, being overwhelmed with the symbolism of the bloody mess. Unfortunately, I also remember saying: “Oh wow, I don’t know what I’m more excited to see, my baby or my placenta.” I do believe this might be when they disposed of the said placenta and topped up my drugs. So here it is, a photo of me with my baby AND my placenta.
For those with squeamish eyes, DO NOT SCROLL DOWN!! For those like me, who had never seen a placenta, scroll away…
For more funny, yet not so confronting, birth photos, check out Woogsworld’s Facebook Page here. And for a more heartwarming account of the birth of my third baby read The Newborn. Thanks to the divine Mrs Woog and Fox in Flats for inspiring/forcing me to blog about this. Now, I will go back to packing in readiness for our big move. xx