The other day I visited a friend of mine who had a week-old baby. She looked so calm and composed. I asked her how her birth was, expecting her to give me the usual, horrific, blood-filled story of screaming and tearing, but she just looked at me with a serene glow and said: ?Amazing.?
?Sorry, did you say ?amazing"?? I replied.
She proceeded to explain how dreamy her 12-hour delivery was: how she took a nap halfway through her labour, and how it was an incredible bonding experience with her husband. She also left the hospital with not even one stitch, which also boggled my mind.
I was so thankful that she?d had a safe and healthy birth, but I also left feeling a little, well, jealous.
While I?ve had two so-called ?natural? and drug-free births, my delivery-room experiences were nothing like what my friend was remembering.  I was damn lucky, don?t get me wrong: No Pitocin, no forceps, no vacuum. Both my girls were born healthy and with minimal complications, and I walked out of the hospital in pretty good shape. I don?t want to seem ungrateful. But I wouldn?t describe the event as ?amazing? or ?dreamy.? It was one of the most painful, traumatizing things my body has ever experienced. The feeling of expelling another human the size of a watermelon is something I can distinctly and easily recollect at a moment?s notice. They say your body forgets, but mine certainly hasn?t. I?m an athlete and I enjoy a physical challenge, which makes me strangely proud of my drug-free b...