A birth abroad

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.

Tsh Oxenreider

Tsh is the founder of this blog and just finished traveling around the world with her husband and 3 kids. Her latest book is Notes From a Blue Bike, and believes a passport is one of the world's greatest textbooks.

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