I saw an article a few months back where Nick Cannon mentioned to the press that he was nervous he would faint while his wife, Mariah Carry, would be giving birth to their twins. My first thought was, “Wait, this is news? Who the heck is Nick Cannon? What an awesome last name!” But then as I thought about it more, I quickly realized that I am in the same boat as Mr. Cannon. I consider myself in the throes of delivery-room anxiety, which include a primal fear of fainting in what I imagine to be a sea of bodily fluids.
Now, most people to whom I confess this certain anxiety just roll their eyes and wave me off as they assure me that I will be just fine. Rather surprisingly, this method of consolation does not seem to help. They don’t really know me. They don’t know the history of my embarrassing past: Like the time when I had to run out of my 10th grade health class video viewing of a woman giving birth before I slipped into hopeless unconsciousness. Or the time I had to fight back my own nausea as I watched my wife getting sick right after she woke up from getting her wisdom teeth removed. Getting down to brass tacks, I guess I am just a wuss. It's a sad realization and I am not thrilled about it. I just don't think I can handle all the blood and guts, which is odd due to my passion for all-things zombie related. However, as the time of delivery is rather quickly approaching, I am starting to think myself much more likely to survive a zombie apocalypse, than to survive the graphic arrival of my new child.
All my selfish worrying kinda pales in comparison to what my wife will actually be facing on that dark but exciting day in the delivery room. But my fears have already evolved to a colossal size and I can only imagine the scenario now: My wife is working hard on pushing out this watermelon-sized new 'little' life and then there's me, passing out at the sight of some gross colored fluid and then having my pathetic self wheeled out of the delivery room as I try to whisper "sorry" through the oxygen mask — all of which would be followed by my eternal humiliation. I think I will just take the advice my skydiving instructor gave to me when he said, “DON'T LOOK DOWN!”
Speaking of babies getting squished out of the birth canal, the picture below is of my baby at 15.5 weeks:
Hello future baby! When you come into this world I will be the one collapsed and unconscious on the delivery room floor. To end this blog entry, here is a picture of a kitten passed out in his food bowl. All together now...AWWWWWWWWWW.
