Monday, 10 August 2009

Want to prevent your teenage daughter from having sex? Have her read this post.

I have now been discharged by the midwife. She said that Eloise and I were both doing so well, that she didn't need to check up on us anymore. This is fabulous news, because she has seen tons of babies and tons of new mothers, and so I value her opinion over most when she insinuates that she doesn't think I'm the type of person to accidentaly sit on my child while trying to get a better view of the Jeremy Kyle show or try and feed Eloise peanuts from across the room when she's demonstrating that adorable rooting reflex.

On her last visit, I mentioned that my stitches were hurting more rather than the lessening of pain I was expecting (something about Time and Wounds...). And so I found myself lying on my side, staring at the back of my futon with my underpants around my ankles and my big white ass in my midwife's face - you know, something to remember me by.

And then she said probably the most horrific thing I have ever heard while having my lower half exposed so freely.

"I see why it's more painful" she said, inches from my nether region "the stitches have disolved but what is left is like a giant paper cut."

A giant paper cut. IN MY VAGINA.

I bet that unprotected sex you were thinking about having isn't looking so hot right now is it?


  1. Okay, I just winced in my office chair. Quick, I need to find my birth control pills, and stat!

  2. It sounds like you and the midwife had a very special relationship, one that I will never be privvy to. And I'm OK with that.