For the last two days, my friend and I have been put on 12 hour shifts with the birthing suite where we assisted in deliveries, watched women writhed and thrashed in their pain, and heard them shriek, screech, grunt and groan.
We were posted on for our third consecutive shift. After we went home on our second shift, i slumped on my couch. The dog jumped onto my lap. I hugged her, took a deep breath of her scent, shuddered and struggled to control my gag reflex. I pushed her away hurriedly.
Then my phone beeped – incoming text.
“I have decided, i am not going for my shift tomorrow.”
“I came home smelling like a placenta.”
I suppressed a relieved giggle.
“Oh good, i thought i was the only one. I hugged my dog and nearly choked. She smelled like a vagina.”
End of text.
Conclusion? We gave up. No more vaginal births. Cesareans from today onwards.