After a woman gives birth, there is great emphasis placed on “getting her body back.” People always want to know about stretch marks and broken capillaries. They speculate on whether ribs will ever go back to their original position (in my experience, the answer to this would be “no”). They even have the nerve to ask about how long it takes for an episiotomy to heal and make jokes about “the daddy stitch” (FYI – still not laughing).
But what people don’t realize – people who have never given birth, that is – is that whether we ever get that bikini-worthy body back or not (good luck with that by the way) is really of very little concern during those first few months. There are far more immediate issues at hand such as sleep and… Well truthfully – that’s the only big one. But other minor personal concerns may include the shock of how painful breastfeeding is, anxiety over letting shower water hit the more battered areas on your body, and the complete terror of attempting that first bowel movement.
You hear a lot about the “beauty” or the “miracle” of childbirth, but aside from any of the emotions involved (which you can read about elsewhere since I’m not writing about that), birth is physical. It’s messy and invasive and there is very little privacy left to a woman who does it. There is also blood. A lot of blood. And even guts if you have a c-section. So it’s inevitable that any woman who has experienced this beautiful and miraculous carnage will tend to become a bit less prissy when it comes to discussing bodily functions.
I should know, because I was quite possibly the biggest prude on the planet.
I have never found potty humor funny. I know – it’s not a popular quality, but I’m willing to admit to it. I just don’t enjoy fart jokes. I didn’t when I was in grade school and I don’t now. When I was in eighth grade, sassy little Cassie Coleman nicknamed me “Miss Sophisticated” since I apparently wandered through recess like it was a Junior League tea party.
I also don’t tend to appreciate innuendo humor. You would think that my husband would catch on to this and stop telling jokes that make me look around for the frat boy to whom he MUST be speaking…
It’s not so surprising then, that I’ve also never felt particularly comfortable with open discussion regarding sex or body parts, OR using the more graphic anatomical terminology. I would cringe over any conversation bordering on Our Bodies Ourselves related topics. I couldn’t help it – my knee jerk reaction would always be: “eeewww!” But at least I wasn’t annoying about it. I find myself drawn to strong personalities, people who speak their mind….and ultimately people who may be a little off color in their sense of humor. Generally, my potty mouthed friends thought I was cute, and tended to get a kick out of my reactions.
I should qualify the description above by mentioning that I’ve also had plenty of friends who don’t swear like sailors. But there is just something about me that screams, “I’m prissy! Torment me with dirty talk!” Or people go in the opposite direction and treat me like I might shatter if they use a four letter word.
While I can’t say that much has changed about my inability genuinely laugh at dirty jokes, I did at least for a little while, drop my aversion to what I once considered to be other unsavory topics.
Anyone who has ever gone through pregnancy and given birth – or even anyone who has just gone through fertility treatments – will admit to losing a significant amount of modesty. It’s impossible not to. Typically, we are only poked at by the gynecologist once every 365 days. But I found that pregnancy involves increasingly frequent examinations and tests – many conducted by complete strangers. The end result is that by the time we give birth, we wouldn’t bat an eye if the janitor asked if he could check our dilation.
Along with this comes the shedding of any recent squeamishness regarding icky anatomy-related words. About three weeks after my first son was born, I found myself having a rather loud conversation on my cell about my ravaged, post-delivery body. In the supermarket check out line. And the words “nipples” and “vaginal” figured prominently. While listening to myself, a small voice screamed, “who are you and why are you embarrassing me like this?!” But my post pregnancy self just shrugged and said, “whatever grandma.”
So – new ability to say “vaginal” without cringing? Check! Now what about gross out stories? OOOHHH – I’ve got some good ones!
If I had to name a few subjects that every mother can talk about at length, they would be birth stories, potty training and vomit (and I assume that adoptive parents would substitute their adoption story for that first subject).
I have given birth to all of my children, and I’m fairly certain that there will never be a time that I won’t be ready, willing and able to tell both of my birth stories – in detail, with commentary and tangents. This topic just never gets boring. Considering how unpleasant or at least how uncomfortable most of it was, even I am confounded by this phenomena. But I suspect it has something to do with “living to tell the tale.”
Then of course, I can talk about poopy diapers and potty training at length. I named “potty training” in my list since my children are past the age of exploding diapers. But really – it’s all the same thing. Every parent has their poop-related war stories. Hell – I just had one last week. I could go on and on about this – but that’s kind of my point.
Vomit is a somewhat specialized area in which some parents are experts, others have limited but memorable experience and the rest could be categorized as “the uninitiated.” These stories tend to revolve around the flu or that annoying phase in which toddlers like to jam their fingers down their throats. I think I fall somewhere between the first two levels – but I can tell you this: you haven’t lived until you’ve cleaned puke out of your child’s ears.
I like to think that much of what we do as we prepare for the arrival of our children also prepares us for this loss in modesty. I can only speak from my own experience as someone who gave birth to all of my children in the hospital. And I lost a huge percentage of my modesty during labor and delivery.
Probably the most embarrassing example from my first birth would be a conversation that I had with one of the nurses when it was time to push. Like any well seasoned priss, I was having a hard time with some of the grosser logistics involved. Once we were all on the same page regarding my disinterest in having a mirror held up so that I could view the birth (I told them that I felt I had a bit too much on my plate at that moment, thank you very much), I began to have concerns about potential issues related to the pushing. The instructions that I was given dictated that the muscles you used to push were pretty much the same ones that you would use when sitting on the toilet. So of course I had to ask, “but what if …you know…something else comes out?” Without missing a beat, the nurse said, “don’t worry honey – that just means that we’ll know you’re doing it right.” And with that, she snuffed out any remaining vestige of decorum to which I was still clinging, just like the last candle left flickering after a dinner party. The party was officially over as far as any of my personal boundaries were concerned.
For several years now (as of March 30, it will be four), I have been far less of a prude when it comes to frank discussion on “women’s issues.” If my friends want to talk about their cracked nipples, I don’t feel the need to escape their company. It just doesn’t bother me anymore. Until lately that is…
You see, I’ve recently started to feel the twitches of tight lipped expressions and the twinges of internal cringing. Stories about toddlers waking up screaming because their diaper has leaked all over the the crib evoke fewer reactions of “ooooh – poor baby!” and more of “eeewww – poor mommy!” So I think that I may just be gettin‘ my prude back on.
And I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that. I mean – it’s a comfortable old role, but I’ve kind of enjoyed my freedom to say nipple without any internal struggle.
Maybe I’ll never really go back to my old way of life. Maybe I passed a point of no return. I may turn a little red when people want to provide me with lurid details about their sex lives – but I will never again turn green during a birth story. So it seems a middle ground has been offered, and I think I’ll take it.
Truth be told, I welcome my old squeamishness. It’s a part of who I am. And you know what they say, you can take the girl out of eighth grade – but you can’t take eighth grade out of the girl. At least in my case.
You are so right. I’ve always been a little too open probably, but after giving birth, I truly have no shame. By the second time around, I seriously wouldn’t have cared if Mickey Mouse watched so long as it went fairly quickly and with minimal vaginal ripping.
Oops sorry, did that make you wince ;-)
I love this post! And not just because I am horrendously squeamish… (But ironically, a total pervert since sex talk, swearing and innuendos are practically a way of life. Apparently that doesn’t bother me quite like puke in the ears does… Lord, I almost puked myself when I read that.)
My fave line: But there is just something about me that screams, “I’m prissy! Torment me with dirty talk!”
Brilliant! And beautifully expressed!
I’m mostly with Robin – squeamish, but not shy about sex :) Your post really made me cringe a few times though. How can they think anyone would want to watch themselves giving birth in a mirror?!
Kate, I totally understand. And I am in the same boat — five months after going through labor, then delivering via emergency c-section — I am still somewhat uncomfortable with the word breastfeeding for christ’s sake! I normally substitute the equally acceptable ‘nursing’. I am such a prude like that.
Kate, Congratulations on posting stuff about which a lot of women do remain silent…for whatever reasons?
I went in to hosp (almost 17 years ago now – my word!), with an earlier prepared birth plan, tapes, my own nighties to wear, and so on and so forth. And then my experience, although not horrific, was one of all that going out of the window, and being submitted to a series of medical demands and processes, and going through a very physical, ancient, indeed visceral, cycle, where you are pretty much on your own…
And never mind the projectile infant vomiting that came afterwards – Exorcist, anyone?!
You are brave and honest and I applaud that today, and your returning prudery – Why should you not return to your ‘normal’ self after raising les enfants beautifully?
I guess I’m kind of prude too when it comes to sex and “female issues”. Never having given birth I guess I’ll never get over it.
But I can swear like a sailor and just heard my daughter say shit yesterday. I’m so proud.
We’re a couple who don’t even pee in front of each other. When I was in labor suddenly, I’m on the toilet throwing up into the emesis basin my husband was holding. And it went down hill from there.
Sex is still private but I will tell anyone anything about pregnancy, labor, and delivery. Somewhere in the first trimester, my filter just shut off completely.
I’m with you on the topic of sex. I really don’t want or need to hear about anyone’s sex life. We’re all adults, we all do it, move on.
The other stuff doesn’t bother me. I’m off to get another cup of coffee… and poop. Sorry.
I don’t cuss, I hate vulgarity but I have no problem talking truthfully about the reality of birthing, feeding and caring for children. I appreciate those who went before me talking frankly about what to expect or I would have been freaking out when I finally did go through the process. Breastfeeding….ohhhhh if I ever did have a reason to cuss that would have been it.
That first was so painful after giving birth how can we not talk about it?
For some reason, your “prudishness” doesn’t surprise me. (or offend me, lol).
Bodily functions and anatomy doesn’t bother me, but I don’t do sex talk, either. That just squicks me out.
Love to discuss dirty nasty things about sex, pregnancy, birth, after birth, and all things that we women GET to put up with.
But I really can’t stand it when the “F” word is used conversationally—so go figure?
I can completely relate to this post. I talk about all kinds of gross things – like Izzy’s runny poop and Porgie’s puking problems. The worst part is, I go into WAY TOO MUCH detail on these topics.
While I am somewhere in the middle of the road when it comes to talking about sex and other topics, I am simultaneously really grateful for the stories from women who have gone before me and had children, and still really squeamish about it, but that’s mostly due to fear! It’s good to know what lies ahead, but I wish some women said it really was all roses and candy…..
i am so with you….my favorite about giving birth ‘vaginally’ the first time were the interns that tagged along every hour to ‘check’ on me so they could get homework credits. good times!
Loved this post! And, I guess I haven’t lived b/c I’ve never had to clean vomit out of a kid’s ears. Did I just write that? Now I’m definitely screwed.
Baby and nether-region talk? I’m there. Sex talk? Not so much. I REALLY don’t want to know about anyone’s sexual proclivities. Ever. This may be why my college friends never included me in the drinking game “I Never.”
Oh yeah. I hear you! Great post.
I totally hear you. I was the same way, but quickly got over it during pregnancy. A person is just simply left with no choice! ):
Funny, funny post! I’m married to someone that tells dirty jokes and we can both take to swearing every once in a while (not at each other) but we swear. I think he has desensitized me to most things dirty because I find myself laughing along like it isn’t at all offensive.
I can only, however, take so many birth stories. I don’t mind them. I’m not squeamish, but I don’t know if I’m always interested in hearing them.
I laughed out loud reading this by the way!
Kate, I have given you an award today – Thursday – at my place – for your gifted and thoughtful writing! Hope you can come over to collect it – thanks always for your lovely witty additions to my bloglet!
You’re so good about telling it how it is and sharing your stories honestly and without reserve.
I’m so conservative and so outspoken at the same time so it’s hard to tell if I’m a prude or not. I don’t swear but otherwise I’m ready to share everything else with close friends (as you know!).
LOVED this!!! Great post!
YOU are so right!
okay, now I know why you read my blog. LOL
also, believe it or not, even though I have a mouth on me I too was pretty damn prudish. NOT ANYMORE. You r right. have a child and everything is up for grabs, so to speak
Loved this post.
I was the “junior league” child in grade school too.
Mortified, when my mother blabbed to everyone that I had gotten my period.
In fact…I was embarrassed to buy my own Kotex! My husband did it.
I was the young mother who got dry heaves when I had to change a 2 year olds poopy diaper. And lets not even discuss that one kid (of mine) ,that had the green snotty nose for 8 years!
Flash forward about 25 years and 3 sons later…..Nothing can shock me any more.
Now I WISH all I heard, was about snots and poopy diapers.
As opposed to “all male stuff, all the time”
“Should I have sex with my best friends girlfriend?”
(UM NO!!!)
Details about the strip club. UGH.
I guess my consolation prize is that my body looks as if I just gave birth to all 3 of them, just yesterday.
Woo hoo!
You may as well enjoy your prudiness for as long as it lasts:)
You are so right, any form of modesty, and there really wasn’t much to begin with, slipped right out the door the second I found out I was pregnant. I haven’t gone back to pre-pregnancy prudish ways though…bring on the talk!
Thanks for sharing with BPOTW!