Childbirth ain't looking pretty. Warning: possible TMI.

I got up early to go walking with a friend of mine, who we will call C. There is absolutely no method to the way I name most anonymous people on here, by the way. I just pick one key on the keyboard and that's their initial. It is also completely possible that I may tell more than one story about each person, and given the fact that I'm too lazy for continuity, I may be assigning more than one alias to a person, or even more than one person to an alias.

Anyway, C has three children and is what I'd call "the most laid-back and natural mother I've ever met." I guess that her theory is that if you take the simplest, calmest route to a solution in a problem involving child-rearing, you will end up with calm, happy children. She owns two cleansers (watered-down bleach and watered-down vinegar) and THAT'S IT. Her house smells like...nothing. She doesn't clutter up the environment with disposables, and she doesn't have the hassle of non-disposables. She has the easiest and most eco-friendly version of all - GDiapers. Flushable inserts, pretty wrappers, and no mess whatsoever. They're even "greener" than cloth diapers - they use less water. She takes everything that goes along with kids in stride.

I hadn't really seen C since about a year ago, when she had her third. She had a miscarriage in between baby 2 & 3, and was concerned to see if my friends who were pregnant had gotten out of the first trimester okay. I was happy to report that all that I know of were doing well, still pregnant. I then mentioned my strange fear about having children that made her stop the walk as she was about doubled over laughing.

My fear about having children? It's not the getting big or doing damage to the body. It's not the first three months where you're scared of whatever. It's not the financial cost of having a kid, the fact that my already-negligible rack will be even smaller after children or even the fact that I will probably be THAT mom who forgets EVERYthing - like the diaper bag - when I go places.

It's the fact that I will be sitting there for NINE MONTHS with one thought - there is absolutely NO way to get out of that situation without a helluva lot of pain. Either it's coming out the old-fashioned way or they're going to have to do the equivalent of Emergency Surgery, as I'd never intentionally SCHEDULE a C-Section like ole Britney Spears. C found this hysterical, probably from the look on my face when I said this.

Then, after her laughing had subsided for a bit, the weirdness started.

C: "what is it that scares you about it? Yeah, it hurts, but not how I had imagined it"
Me: "well, um, all I can say is that it sounds like it's the biggest and most painful poo one would ever take."
C: "actually, yeah, when they say 'pressure', that's kind of what they mean. It feels like you REALLY have to go number two."
Me: "yeah. Ow. Plus there's all that blood, and because of that 'pressure', I always hear that you really DO drop a deuce on the table."
C: "sometimes, but my labors were so long, I had nothing left in me anyway so by the time I pushed, nothing like THAT came out."
Me: "well, all I know is that I'm having a STRICT rule - my husband is NOT allowed to look at what's going on down there, if you know what I mean. I may even kick him out of the room, I do my hardest and best work when I'm left alone anyway."
C: (she has stopped us and we're sitting on a bench at this point - she can not stop laughing at me) "Are you KIDDING? I had a MIRROR at all mine so I could WATCH!"
Me: "Sorry, NOT gonna happen. I don't particularly want to see that."
C: "Wait, have you ever seen one?"
Me: "those Sex Ed videos, like 'The Miracle of Life', but not in real life"
C: "Was it was that one from the 70's? Where the guy has a full-on beard and they're wearing linen clothing and they do chants?"
Me: (sorry, conversation's a little crass at this point) "Yeah, and her Southern Hemisphere doesn't look all that different from her husband."
C: "Well, it's not THAT gross. That's the bad 70's porn of childbirth videos. I've seen Episiotomies that look prettier than that."
Me: "You are not making me want to have children any faster when you say words like 'Episiotomy'"
C: "Well, you have to see mine. It's not bad at all, I think you have a bad image of them when it's not as bad as you've been led to believe."
Me: "I'm sorry, C, but if I died today never having seen a baby come out of your LadyParts, I will die a happy lady and I will not think that I'm missing out on any part of our friendship."
C: "no, really, I'm going to make you see it. I dare you."
Me: "No thanks."

When we get to her house for a water-and-pit-stop, she's still on the topic. She had a pair of my jeans, and she says she won't let me have them until I watch it. Since she SWEARS it's less than five minutes (only the important parts, and it's of her third child, so it's faster than the other two), I finally give in. She puts it on their TV and I watch.

Okay, so it wasn't AS bad as those videos you watch in high school, but still. Ow. It still looks like it huuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrts.

I gave her one bit of relief - that it wasn't as bad as I had imagined. However, now as I'm typing this, I realize that I may never look at her the same way again, as I've seen her hoo-hah in action.

I'm still sticking to my rule - my husband is under direct orders to NEVER look south of the Equator during the births of our future children, and there will be no mirrors for me to see that stuff. Call me vain, but I'd probably be petrified of touching him again if I saw him passing a kidney stone as well.