My birth canal was a water slide
As my youngest child turns five, I reflect on his wild waterslide birth, in poem-form.
My birth canal was a water slide and my new baby was up at the top, poised to shoot down it.
But I didn’t know that, yet.
The contractions were furious waves, 50-foot high and rising, and the anaesthetist was in her scrubs, ready to administer the epidural that would calm those waves and slow his journey down.
