"Mommy, do you remember when I lived in your tummy?"
I must get this question at least once a week. It probably doesn't help that my husband still has a belly shot hanging in our room, it's his favorite (he took it). I don't mind at all, I love recalling each of my pregnancies. I was one of those obnoxious women who enjoyed everything about being pregnant. At least that's what I hear whenever I hear the war stories being exchanged in waiting rooms. I simply loved everything about it, I was not in a rush for it to end, and I was never ready to kick them out. In fact, with each I went full term (40 weeks) and the day I gave birth I was still reluctant to give up this bliss.
Sure, each person is different and not all pregnancies are created equal. I just never understood the rush to get it over with or send the "eviction notice" to these tiny passengers. Besides, they are easier to handle on the inside anyway. Am I right?
So each time I get this question I tell him the story of how much I loved every kick and used to sing to him nightly. He usually follows with how he had the chunkiest cheeks we'd ever seen (still does), and bright red curly hair. He's adopted our memories as his own, it's so sweet and he lights up every time we talk about it.
This time was different though, he was rubbing my stomach and mentioned his previous residence with love and affection as if he really does remember life in the womb. Then he hits me with it. "Mommy, how did I come out of your belly?" BOOM. Did I just get hit with the "Where do babies come from" question???
I wasn't really prepared for this. He's only four! Sunflower Creative Arts has awesome Parent Toolbox meetings on how to have the death or sex talks with kids, but I haven't been to one yet.
Suddenly I wondered, is this conversation easier since I've had two cesarean births? He quite literally pointed to my scar and asked, his concern was that he was trapped with "no door" to get out. So I told him that is where the doctor opened me up and helped him come out. He immediately followed up with a question as to how the doctor put me back together, which I answered easily. That was it! Off to play in the playroom without another thought about it.
This got me thinking, could it be that this conversation is much easier for those of us who had to go under the knife? Is it really that (excuse the pun) cut and dry? Is it possible that something stemming from this major surgery could be simple? A procedure which took six weeks to recover from as opposed to the much simpler one to three day recovery from a vaginal birth. Is it some cosmic trade-off?
So I wonder, how have you all handled this line of questioning? How did you go about explaining "Where Babies Come From?"
Essentially Yours,
Erika
