I watched Ricki Lake poop out a baby tonight…


…didn’t see that one coming, did you guys? To be fair, neither did I.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me first tell you all about how I got into the position to see Ricki Lake poop out the baby to begin with.

Today began like any other Saturday. Of course my husband was off work, so we milled around – bullshitting each other and pretending to enjoy each other’s company; until that got old, and I decided to get in the shower. I was also pretty suspicious because he kept complimenting me. It was like three times in under an hour, which is highly dubious; in fact, I’m still wondering what he did.

After my shower, my husband’s shower, and all the arguing about everyone needing to stop playing Barbies for five minutes and put their fucking toothbrushes into their fucking mouths, we were ready for the day. Which we weren’t entirely sure what to do with, still.

So we headed over to my father’s house to do the housecleaning for his open house tomorrow. I’m not talking about a fancy party kind of open house, where he serves those little cucumber sandwiches to high class kind of friends. I’m talking about the kind of open house you have for the sale of a home. You know: where tons of strangers traipse through your home, fuck everything up, break shit, leave doors open, and then try to low ball you with offers more insulting than “I’ll give you three crayons and this carton of milk.”

Anyway, so we did the housecleaning, then we were at a total loss of what to do with the day. So we went home – stopping at the grocery store (of course) to pick up stuff for me to make dinner with. Once home, we did what we always do when we don’t know what to do: watched movies.

We watched Dallas Buyer’s Club. That was phenomenal. Then we watched The Hunger Games – finally, after all this time postponing for me to read the book, only for me to never get around to reading the book because I don’t like reading that Young Adult shit anyway.

Then The Hunger Games came to a finish and it was still early. Too early to go to bed; too late to go anywhere or do anything. So we scrolled through our Netflix Que for something relatively quick. Which is when we happened upon it: Ricki Lake’s documentary The Business of Birth.

Let me start by saying that I did enjoy the film. I thought it was very informative, and while a little too graphic and outdated for my tastes, it was – by and large – something that, at the very least, made me think. I like to think, so that’s good.

But I took issue with two things in particular.

Towards the end…

…the conclusion was made by an OB/Gyn, as well as the filmmakers and Ricki Lake, that if a woman does not experience the raw pain, intense emotion, natural induction of hormones, and vaginal-vaginal-out-the-vagina birth that she does not experience the bonding of motherhood, nor the love of being a mom.

To be clear: women who had to induce? Haven’t experienced the bonding and love of motherhood. Women who had caesarians? Haven’t experienced the bonding and love of motherhood.

If you are angry, you are with me.

And you should then be asking yourself: are you fucking kidding me? What kind of a horse’s ass opinion is that? The belief that a woman unable to birth naturally, or who chooses medical intervention (for whatever her reasons may be) DOES NOT EXPERIENCE THE LOVE OF MOTHERHOOD AND BONDING WITH HER BABY is the most horrendous, destructive, narrow-minded, and ignorant view of motherhood and, well, reality I may have ever heard.

Truly. Truly this infuriated me, which was unfortunate because (at least to me) it greatly discredited a lot of the other things said and discussed in the film. If they are that wrong about something so great as this, couldn’t they be wrong about a lot of the other things?

Documentaries always do this to me. They always fucking let me down like this.

…and documentaries always let me down in another way, which had to do with Ricki Lake’s vagina…

They show me more of something in particular than I really want to see. In this case, that thing in particular was Ricki Lake’s vagina.

Now I know what you are all thinking. If I watch a documentary about childbirth, I should expect to see at least something of women squeezing babies out of their v-holes. I get that, OK? It didn’t make me scream any less, or be any more horrified by all the nuances of childbirth I would like to keep in the deepest, darkest caverns of my brain – never to surface for fear of fainting. I just can’t take some of it, the majority of the time. (I can’t be the only mother that feels this way, right?)

Sorry if that bothers you. Maybe I too cannot experience the love and bonding of motherhood.

But what I really wasn’t expecting was to see Ricki Lake poop out her second baby in a bathtub with a bottle of Suave sitting on the shelf behind her. Nope, I really was not expecting that. Not one bit.

I feel so cold now. So very, very cold.

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The premise of the movie was essentially that home birth is better. I tend to disagree with this, mostly because of the fact that I’m a big, ol’ scaredy cat. I suppose if everything were in the woman’s favor, home birth is a perfectly safe and healthy option – with, of course, the help of an experienced midwife. Though at the very end of the film, the filmmaker went into labor (not Ricki Lake, thank God I’d had enough of that bullshit) and she had to rush to the hospital after all because her baby was breech. Long story short: the baby would have died had she naturally delivered at home. This raises some serious concerns that women face when deciding their birth plan, which I really don’t feel the film did even the slightest bit to address.

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I don’t know what all of your thoughts are on the topic, but I’ll just say when you’ve seen Ricki Lake squat a baby out of her vagina, with her bare boobs flopping all over the place, you just really start to see things a lot more skewed. Really, I don’t even know what to believe about anything after that.

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4 Comments on “I watched Ricki Lake poop out a baby tonight…

  1. Some can do home birth. Ricki Lake probably has the resources to do it (hence the documentary, barf). Sometimes you have no choice, lol! That was almost me with my first kid; he was coming NOW, and if it was in the truck on the way there, or the hospital, he didn’t care. And vaginal birth is no gaurantee of bonding; my second was normal, and took me a few days to bond with him. So yeah, their conclusions are crap. Hospitals are best, I do agree, when it comes to birth.

  2. P.S. read the ‘Hunger Games’ series, they’re pretty good – constant action; you’ll read each one in a day. Not like that ‘Twilight’ teen love angst drivel.

  3. God, I suppose that is something you can’t un-see.

    Thanks for taking one for the team and reporting back to us on it so we don’t have to endure that visually disturbing documentary.

    As for child birth, I think it should be handled in a hospital with trained professionals. I think there is a certain part of society that puts so much emphasis (and drama) into natural child birth, at home, in water, or whatever “hip” way they come up with – it’s ludicrous. Having witnessed my wife give birth two times, I don’t know what these people hope to gain by going through all these theatrics. And don’t they dare even allude that it’s better “bond” doing it the natural way. You know what’s good for bonding? Not having the mother or child die during labor. Also not being in mind bending pain if you don’t have to be.

    And I guarantee these people just love to pass judgement on others who didn’t “do it natural” – like they’ve won some sort of “life olympics”. Screw those judgmental pricks. The reality is during the first two weeks after the kid comes home you’re going to be jabbing shared of glass in your eyes praying the baby would just sleep for longer than 45mins. You want to bond with your baby? Cuddle with him for days on end cause that’s the only way he finds comfort in his first few days on the planet. Then after that, there’s hopefully years upon years of new adventures and boding moments.

    Also I’m a guy, so me even chiming in on the topic probably offends people like Ricki deeply.

    The truth is making, having and raising children to be healthy and happy isn’t a make or break proposition in regards to any one aspect or event. And maternal bonding certainly not solely the realm of women who pass babies through their vaginas on beds of straw with incense. Everyone who judges people on how they have a baby: please do us a favor and stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about, you have no grasp on what is truly important in life.

    (sorry for the insane rant – edit accordingly)

  4. Eeewwwwwa! I don’t even ever want to see the film of me birthing my own babies let alone a B level celeb.

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