I no longer live for myself. This is a cliché I suddenly started to see as truth once a human being of 3.2 kilograms (for all of you that work in pounds that is about 7 pounds. Also, tell your governments to join us in 21st century.) popped out of my va-china.
When I say popped, I really mean pushed with all my might for about an hour and before that wriggled in excruciating pain for nearly 2 hours. A lot of other things down there went pop, but it was certainly not my baby. Women, whose babies really just popped out must be few and far between and only exist in cartoons or Hollywood.
In fact, after my first child I doubt they exist at all. Something so large that needs to fit through such a tiny place cannot just go pop. I have seen Call the Midwife, I know what I am talking about. I have also seen the size of my va-china and stuff that’s been in and out of it thus far is minuscule compared to a baby’s head (not to say anything remotely downgrading about my husband’s equipment!).
Although those second time mums, who always seem to see themselves as much more experienced and therefore figures of authority in the mum world, always boast of their second one being oh-so-easy-breezy. More about those monster mothers later.
For now, a graphic description of how my little human child came into this world. Read on.