Fart jokes are not funny. Poop pellets flying through the air while birthing a baby . . . now THAT’S funny.
But birth is more than a string of one-liners. It’s thrilling and sacred, too, like being kissed by eternity while staring down a 300 pound linebacker in a powder puff game gone horribly wrong. I’ll tell you, though, there is one thing that birth is NOT.
Birth is Not a Performance
Soul-splitting contractions. Mucous plugs. Breaking bags of water. It’s too all-consuming to waste energy on pretense. The unvarnished reality is part of the beauty. I love how my college friend Elisabeth put it:
I felt wildness and shock pouring out of my face, like someone who wasn’t hidden in the rock when God was walking by. I remembered a photograph of a laboring woman with that expression, and I remembered she was smiling, so I smiled, and rode it high and hard and wild.
That is the stuff birth stories are made of.
Though the particulars can take many forms, birth stories always have the capacity to point us to truth. It can be the truth about holding on, letting go, falling in love or making love a choice. But whatever it is, it is REAL.
So please, share YOUR story with us! Simply sign up with the linky below using the URL to your specific birth story post (and not to your blog homepage…this will help find your post without having to search your blog for it).
It would also be lovely if you would do two things:
- Leave a comment on 2 other birth stories – we all love kind words!
- Link to this post from your blog so your friends can share in the fun. 🙂