Dropping the f-bomb in labor & delivery

If you are in the midst of having a baby, I am perhaps not the *best* person to accompany you into labor & delivery, but I am also not the *worst*. For instance, some people are psychotic. Some people have Ebola. When you invite me into your labor & delivery room, you can expect my behavior to be generally innocuous. I might panic and press the nurse’s call button when you stand to stretch your legs. I might be a little too interested in the snacks meant to keep your strength up. And I might keep gravitating toward your birthing jacuzzi because I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. But I am also super invested in making your birthing experience a beautiful one.

Even though the labor & delivery security band on my wrist entitles me to “free drinks” in the cafeteria upstairs, I will not start thinking of the hospital as an exclusive nightclub where “anything goes” because I have an “all-access pass.” I will not keep flashing my wristband to family members in the maternity ward lobby who are not in possession of wristbands, for I would hate for them to feel self conscious about not making the cut. I will not start thinking of the nurses as “bouncers”  who “know me.” When asked how things are going beyond the security doors, I will not insinuate that there are mysteries occurring in labor & delivery that those without wristbands could never understand, and I will not compare my birthing room privileges to being backstage at a Jay-Z concert, drinking champagne with Beyonce and Blue Ivy while everyone else is getting their flasks confiscated in the cheap seats, because childbirth is a miracle and the miracle is not how cool I am all of a sudden.

I will not swear more than 50 times in front of your newborn. I will not blog about your private parts. (Even though no one reads this blog so it might be kind of liberating to have your vagina on here.)

But I will worship the ground you walk on for a long time to come. And I will wear my all-access wristband until the nurses turn on me and insist on cutting it off. They’ll take these precautions before I get carried away with love and try to steal your baby. At this point the bouncers know me all too well.

Welcome to the world, little nephew. I hope you dig crazy aunts. xo


5 Thoughts on “Dropping the f-bomb in labor & delivery

  1. I read your blog! I’ve always loved it.

  2. Thanks, Hilty! I’m honored that you read my blog, and even more honored that (reading between the lines) you want me as one of your delivery room VIPs. I’m sure your mother won’t mind waiting in the lobby. By the way, I met your mom at Hazel the other day and found her delightful. I think about you a lot and have been crafting an email in my mind…

  3. Please feature my vagina on your beautiful blog. I read it.


  4. Jessie on April 11, 2013 at 9:52 am said:

    Hi Stranger – what a beautiful blog! I still have it bookmarked and check in twice yearly or so, although I feel like a voyeur since I haven’t kept in touch otherwise… I would be honored to have you in my labor and delivery room — I’m serious! Although I think I’m done having kids after squeezing out two good ones (loads of profanity both times).

  5. Jessie, it is so great to hear from you. And where are these children of yours who somehow appeared healthy and beautiful in the world without my midwifery? Come to New York! And have a dozen more kids so I can be involved! (And because humanity will be better for it.)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Post Navigation