Today I’m over at (in)courage, where I’m sharing the birth story of my second-born. He was delivered in the country where we recently lived, and needless to say, there were some definite cultural differences. From the post:
“Things rather quickly escalated in the operating room. The gaggle of nurses and doctors shot me questions left and right. I answered in my broken tongue, to which they mumbled knowingly to each other, “She’s a foreigner.”
This explained my deer-in-the-headlight look, I suppose, so after awhile they stopped speaking to me and just started doing things to me. They’re pleasant enough, in this culture, but in general, the people are a bit… brasher and rougher than what Americans are accustomed to. Because of this, I now felt like a slab of meat, poked and prodded by latex gloves and cold steel instruments. And since I couldn’t see anything, I didn’t have advanced warning when anything would happen.“
It’s not my usual style of posting, but everyone loves a good birth story, right? Head on over for some Friday afternoon reading entertainment.
