I throughly enjoy my mommy group - we are all well-educated moms in our late twenties to mid-thirties with babies born within 2 months of each other. When we get together we talk about all sorts of thing....our husbands, our work (for those who went back to work), our kids and the joy of taming toddlers. All sorts of stuff. Last night, we had our "moms night out" it was quite enjoyable - we talked about saggy balls (apparently men in their geriatric years are also not immune to the effects of gravity), placenta consumption and other uses (for myself I just let it go the way of biohazardous waste or teaching material, although I had a very funny thought about a couple who are awaken in the middle of the night by raccoons fighting over a freshly "planted" placenta.....placenta is strewn everywhere in the morning....neighbors ask what it is....), work, the trials and tribulations of nap time/bed time/toddler discipline, mortgages...I am very happy to hear of the new pregnancy of one of my mommy friend. And then the conversation turned to birth.
I should have known better, I should have politely found an excuse to hurry home, but I didn't. And then I was there again, as the other women talked of all they did to speed up their labors and avoid the dreaded 'interventions'...I recall lying there hoping labour would stop or slow down, praying for a csection or at the very least an epidural...but more than anything praying that nothing would go sideways. My eyes glazed over and I starred at the red menu on the table....I tried to mentally absent myself from the conversation. It was hard to hear.... I think only one other mommy noticed my distress. My hand trembled as I reached for my water. Eventually the conversation ended and we departed, the drive home was difficult. My mind was still racing, my heart pounding. Upon my arrival home I poured myself two stiff cocktails to wind down from it.
Yep, I am nuts to consider #2....
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