I once had a boyfriend who told me he thought I’d be less of a woman if I didn’t give birth ‘naturally’.
Of course, this was the same boyfriend who literally threw up a little the one time in our two-year relationship I dared to fart in his presence, so in hindsight he had some serious issues when it came to his ideas about women.
I was telling him one day about my sister’s experience with childbirth. She went through such excruciating pain during her labour that she still maintains with all seriousness that if someone hadn’t been in the room with her the entire time she would have jumped out the third-story window.
I then went on to tell him that when I eventually get pregnant, I have a genius c-section/tummy-tuck plan that involves waking up with a gunk-free baby in a fluffy blanket sleeping peacefully next to me. Brilliant, no? I waited for him to applaud my practical approach to childbirth. He would never want the woman he loves to be in so much physical pain that she would jump out a third-story window. Right?
Unfortunately, the applause never came. Instead, there was some nervous laughter, followed by something along the lines of, ‘but obviously you want to go through it, right? I mean, jokes aside Rosie, it’s important for a woman to experience birth the proper way…’
He laughed, thinking I was kidding. I laughed, thinking he was kidding. Then as it slowly dawned on each of us that the other was dead serious, we managed to say an awkward ‘wait… what?’ in unison before a very tense silence took hold of the room.