Perhaps the most interesting conversation I had on my trip to visit the family last month was with my sister (the hippie) and my cousin (two weeks younger than myself and pregnant with her second child).
It seems baby sister and her husband are gearing up to begin the grand baby-making marathon as soon as they get back from vacation and she had some questions for my cousin, who’s been through it once before.
“Is it really as painful as they make it out to be?” to which my cousin replied the standard, yes, it hurts. But you forget after you hold the baby or something. Oh, and that since my cousin is a wimp of the first magnitude, she admitted she had built it up to be so agonizing that when the real thing came along, it actually wasn’t nearly as bad as she expected. Pessimism for the win!
Then my sister started in on the long list of things she’s always wanted to do and how maybe she should wait a little longer (keep in mind she’s 29 and been dating and now married to her current husband for 13 years). The list included: a trip to Europe, skydiving, bungee jumping, partying hard for her 30th birthday next year, champagne one more New Year’s Eve, etc. And as the list wore on, my cousin and I grew more astonished.
“You’ll be a mom, not dead! You do realize you can do all of those things after you have kids too, right?” Cousin asked. (Assuming you have the energy, I thought).
Apparently the idea had never occurred to my sister. I’m not sure exactly what she believed would happen when she has the baby, but I think it involves some sort of end to all activities in her life forever and ever. I know children are a huge responsibility and take a lot of time and money, but she did grow up in the same house as I did, where my mom earned a master’s degree and learned yoga while raising three kids without a nanny. And my parents went on their fair share of vacations, thanks to grandparents willing to take us in a few times a year.
But, the highlight of the conversation? My sister asking whether she could go ahead and schedule a C-section the minute she meets the doctor. “Why would you want to do that? It’s major surgery!” squeals my cousin.
“Well…. I don’t want everything down there to get all ruined,” replies my sister. Because doesn’t every woman worry less about her own health than vaginal quality? That’s my sister folks- a woman of quality.