I was astounded by how many “experts” emerged to offer unsolicited advice during my pregnancy. Their opinions were as varied as they were contradictory. I heard everything from, “It’s definitely a girl, and you’ll go early,” to “A boy for sure, and you’ll probably need a C-section.” With all these self-proclaimed experts around, it’s a wonder we still rely on obstetricians and ultrasounds! For the record, I ended up having a boy who arrived naturally and eight days ahead of schedule.
Fast forward to my second pregnancy, and I found myself needing to add an important line to my Post-it: “Please spare me your labor horror stories.” Once my baby bump was clearly visible, the unsolicited tales began flooding in.
Women recounted how they barely made it to the hospital to deliver their second child, while men shared tales of delivering their wives’ babies at home or—worse—while en route to the hospital. I was regaled with accounts of 72-hour labors that culminated in emergency C-sections and others so rapid that there was no time for an epidural. Some stories about blood pressure and preeclampsia were so outrageous that they felt like they belonged in a horror film—like the woman whose bleeding required 867 stitches up to her eyebrows!
Really? Your OB was off on a safari when your water broke? I’ll make a note to ensure my OB doesn’t leave the country for the next 40 weeks. Or you broke your water on a Ferris wheel? Thanks for the heads-up; I’ll avoid amusement parks after 38 weeks.
While I’m not a mom driving a van full of kids, I have been through this before. Yet, I find myself oscillating between the fear of giving birth two months early on a public transit train and the anxiety of being so overdue that my OB has to induce the delivery of a toddler. All my worst fears about labor and delivery were ignited by these so-called “helpful” stories.
As a woman, I understand the urge to share experiences. It’s a natural instinct to help and bond over the challenges of motherhood. However, these labor horror stories, disguised as advice, often do more harm than good, particularly for expectant mothers who might reconsider having children after hearing about the terrifying realities of labor.
Why should I prepare for a 12-pound baby when I’m just 5-feet-4-inches tall and built like a boy? My anxiety about labor is only compounded with every Braxton-Hicks contraction. Now is not the time for you to recount your 46-hour natural birth experience on a birthing ball that popped mid-contraction.
It might surprise some, but the number of people on this planet correlates directly with the number of women who have endured labor. Certainly, labor is a shared experience, and while it can be fun to discuss the highs and lows of childbirth, I’d prefer to hear about those experiences after I’ve delivered.
So, next time you feel the urge to share tales of “double contractions” with an expecting mom, consider holding back. Especially if she’s anxiously counting the minutes to determine if her “gas pains” are actually contractions. Let’s save the horror stories for a post-delivery gathering over a glass of wine when we can laugh about it all without the fear of tearing stitches or dealing with an unintentional accident.
This article was originally published on February 1, 2017, and for more insights on conception and pregnancy, check out this post on artificial insemination. For authoritative content, visit this resource on family planning. If you’re looking for additional guidance about pregnancy and home insemination, Hopkins Medicine is an excellent resource.
Summary
Sharing labor horror stories often amplifies anxiety for expectant mothers rather than offering constructive advice. Every pregnancy and labor experience varies significantly, and what one woman endures may not reflect another’s journey. It’s crucial to approach discussions about labor with sensitivity, especially when a woman is close to giving birth.