Childbirth Isn’t Beautiful. It’s Horrifying.
I’ll die before I push a tiny human out of my vagina
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Between the years 1998 and 2007, my mother birthed three children. One of her greatest joys in life is recounting her birth stories to her children, usually when she feels we’re being unappreciative of all she’s done for us. She’s sweet that way.
I came first and my mother decided she wanted to try a completely natural birth, which means no drugs. Labor lasted over twenty-four hours, with three of those hours being spent pushing me out. (Did you know that the pushing part lasts that long? I thought once you hit ten centimeters you push for a couple of minutes and, boom, that’s it!) She eventually passed out from pain and exhaustion and the doctor had to get me out via vacuum extraction.
She learned her lesson from that experience when she had my sister. She immediately requested an epidural and the doctor stabbed a giant-ass needle into her spine. This didn’t stop her from pissing and shitting herself while a roomful of people stared at her, though.
Ever heard of an episiotomy? That’s when the doctor cuts you open from vagina to anus to make room for the baby’s head. And that’s exactly what they did to my mother when she had my baby brother. Enjoy eating your lunch with that image in your head.
And these are all fairly standard birth stories! Take some time to look up childbirth gone wrong stories if you’re some kind of masochist and want to freak yourself out.
This is all to say that there’s nothing beautiful about childbirth. It’s terrifying, it’s ugly, it’s traumatic. It can be so awful that some people develop PTSD afterward. And it’s something that I never, ever want to go through.
Look, I don’t want you to get the idea that childbirth is anything short of miraculous. It’s truly amazing that people are capable of creating life and bringing that life into the world; I am forever in awe of these people and I commend them all.
But let’s be honest: It’s still something straight out of a body horror film.
Childbirth scares me. It scares me more than contracting an STD or public speaking. I have a lot of reasons for why I don’t want to have children (financials, mental health issues, don’t want to destroy my body, just don’t like kids), but the biggest one is the horrifying, bloody, disgusting nature of childbirth.
So, the thought that a bunch of legislators in Washington are trying to take away my bodily autonomy at this very moment? The idea that I might one day get pregnant and not be able to abort the pregnancy if I so choose? It keeps me up at night.
There is no such thing as a bad reason to get an abortion if you want one. You already have children and you can’t afford another one? Get an abortion. You’re a victim of sexual assault? Get an abortion. It would be detrimental to your health? Get an abortion. You don’t want to be a parent? Get an abortion. It’s Tuesday and you feel like it? Get an abortion.
It’s entirely possible that we’re living in the early days of a dystopian situation. Ten years from now we might all be wearing red dresses* and bonnets, walking around saying “Blessed be the fruit,” and “May the Lord open.” Do I have any words of advice on what we as citizens can do? The standard stuff: vote, protest, summon the dark forces to put a curse on Samuel Alito, write to the Senate.
Good luck and praise be.
*(After listening to testimonies from POCs and learning that this comparison to The Handmaid’s Tale is offensive, I feel it’s important to point out that black and brown people have already lived through this scenario and will be most at risk following the overturning of Roe v. Wade. As a white, cisgender woman, I need to acknowledge my privilege — if I lived in Gilead, it’s far more likely that I would be a Serena Joy and I apologize to those who may have been hurt or offended by this reference. It was ignorant.)
