Back in March of 2013, my German wife and I were watching the entire collection of Firefly — you know, the greatest sci-fi TV series of all time? — and yet still, I had to make her watch it, because although she is a huge nerd, she just isn’t a futuristic, spaceship kind of nerd.)
There’s this one episode of Firefly called Heart of Gold, in which a brothel comes under attack by an evil tyrant hellbent on claiming his biological infant son from one of the young prostitutes he’d impregnated. The heroes of the show come to the brothel’s aid and a massive gunfight ensues. It’s a spectacle of bullets, laser beams and garter belts — pretty much the sexiest shootout ever — but during the mayhem, the pregnant girl goes into labor.
She starts screaming, hollering and pouring fluids from her nether regions. (It was a rather effective deterrent for anyone inclined to bring a new soul into the world.) My wife was watching this woman thrashing around and hollering in pain when she turned to me and said:
“It’s so weird that humans reproduce this way. I would rather lay an egg.”
*Would you like to read another post about my German wife’s attitude toward having babies? Check out this other gem: My German Wife Shops for American Baby Gifts
Posted in Denglish
Tagged Babies, Birth, Childbirth, Deutschland, Family, Firefily, Germany, Giving Birth, Having a Baby in Germany, Health, Humor, Parenting, Pregnancy, Raising a Family
My wife and I are currently in our early thirties. This means we are at that stage in which all of our friends are procreating. Some of them are even on Colossal Life Mistake #2. (We aren’t ready for kids yet.)
Not only do we marvel at the very notion of having children in general, but we discuss the specifics of pregnancy, fetuses and gestation as well. We speak of these things as if they are unknowable ideations communicated to us from some distant galaxy; a galaxy inhabited by aliens so burdened by their own offspring they cannot stand the knowledge that here, on this planet we call Earth, sexy young couples are enjoying Friday and Saturday nights in perfect, uninterrupted tranquility.
So, back in early 2012, The Wife asked if I thought the bond between mothers and their babies formed automatically. She wondered if a new mother would feel an instant connection to her child, or if it happens over time. I told her growing a disgusting infant inside one’s body for the better part of a year probably forms some kind of bond. At least I hope so. (Imagine a sticky little goblin clawing its way toward the light without benefit of maternal bliss to herald its arrival. I shudder at the thought.)
Ignoring this scenario, my wife stroked her chin sagely and nodded in agreement.
THE WIFE: “Yes. They are connected for 9 months by the belly button wire.”
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Posted in Denglish
Tagged Childbirth, Expat, Family, Germany, Humor, Life, Love, Marriage, Maternal Bonding, Pregnancy, Relationships