merriment, midwives, and misanthropy

Since the holidays have started approaching, normally tight-lipped people that you run into everyday seem to be a bit more chatty (maybe it’s the gl├╝hwein). It started off with a cashier at Karstadt mentioning Jumpin’ Jack Flash as I was digging in my change purse. In Euroland, which is still approx. 20-50 years behind, dark-skinned women with locks = Whoopi Goldberg, dark-skinned women with a low natural = Grace Jones. At that moment, I realized that I’m lacking a middle register in German. I can do polite and I can
do fuck off but not so much effective in-betweeny sarcasticky snark, appropriate for assholes of German descent at holiday time. Since it is the holiday season, I’m trying not to hate people so much.

So when my OB mentioned I should get on with finding a midwife, like now, I started regretting the time period. I figured I would end up sitting across from some Christmashappy smiley lady blabbing whatever’s clever just to make conversation, like oh wow I’m so curious to find out what the baby will look like… there are so many possibilities with these things. So of course I did. And hell no. The last thing I need is a nosy (her own words), Tuskegee experimenting genetic researcher pretending to be a midwife around my house for a week.

Whatever we decide (very soon) I think we are going to have to integrate a list of Things you may not want to say before/during/after birth about our child at risk of getting a pregnancy stool upside your head into the decision-making process. (oh yea, happy holidays!) 


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