Belly of the Beast

I walked in through Town's very first automatic revolving glass door. I climbed the giant and pointless set of stairs, tiled with slate, railed by a sheet of immaculate glass. I gave them my name, and pulled out my copy of Chris Bojalian's Midwives (not as good on second readthrough, post-kids, by the way). I felt like a traitor. This office is so nice, so beautiful because of all of the unnecessary c-sections and hysterectomies these doctors have performed over the years. By all of the women told they were going to induce. By all of the young mothers who were laughed at when they said they wanted to have a natural birth. Paid for by Pitocin and epidurals and episiotomies.

But I looked past that because I wanted what I wanted and I wanted it now. Birth control pills. For a $10 co-pay, 10 pounds in water weight, and occasional, non-migraine headaches, I'll be happily not having a baby next year. Yes, a baby is always a blessing. But sometimes, not having a baby is a blessing too.