They say that childbirth is, and must necessarily be, the most beautiful thing in the world.
So beautiful that it justifies all the hardships a mother must endure, without complaining or expecting relief from the pain. So beautiful that after it has happened, you are not even allowed to rest because you have to keep the baby with you to breastfeed.
So beautiful that if, exhausted as you are, you fall asleep, and the child tragically dies in your arms, you wouldn’t even notice it or be able to wake up. And once you open your eyes and they tell you that your child is no longer there, there comes the insinuation that maybe you fell asleep not just because you were exhausted by all the pain and sleep deprivation, but also perhaps you were under the influence of some substance.
They say that childbirth is, and must necessarily be, the most beautiful thing in the world. May those who say that be cursed.
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