SOME QUESTIONS ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN OTHERS

 
I don't know who's idea it was but someone finally realized that since fathers had a very active part in conception, they should be allowed in the delivery room for the big moment and the agonizing hours leading up to it.  Fathers being allowed in the delivery room opened the flood gate for a lot of changes over the years.

When I had my first baby things were simple and my questions were simple. Where is the nearest hospital? Is the baby finally going to come out? What will it be? What will I name it if it does finally arrive. Finally, if it's a boy will I circumcise?  

My two daughters-in law, Kelly and Danae,  and my youngest daughter, Briana each recently had their first baby.  Their choices were endless. How many doctors should I interview? Which hospital should I go to? How soon can I find out what sex it is?  Should I immunize?  Danae and Kelly chose to immunize. Briana--no immunization.  Danae and Kelly chose a doctor.  Briana--a midwife and water birth.  Danae and Kelly chose to let the hospital dispose of the placenta. Briana--she had her own ideas on that subject.

Let's take a moment to discuss placenta disposal.  In my day, we did not eagerly ask the nurse if she would keep our placenta on ice so we could take it home and eat it. If my nurse had politely offered it as an option I may have very impolitely asked Rick to pick it up, throw it in her direction and let her wear it home.  Today  however, it is the new vogue. Briana considered it a rare delicacy that would be yummy and very healthy in a breakfast shake..

Gerald, her husband while happy to be allowed in the delivery room was not so thrilled with the whole placenta parfait. Since he wasn't the one going to eat it however, he reluctantly obliged and toted it to my house where Briana would recuperate.  While I was more than willing to let Briana and my darling little grandson into the house  I was not at all eager to welcome anything else in that had dropped out of her body.

Of course, no one had considered who the artful caver of this delicacy would be. After much loud and vigorous discussion that went like, "GROSS... DON'T LOOK AT ME, ...I AM NOT A SURGEON", Briana finally said she would do it.  Just as she was about to take the plunge Gerald reluctantly manned up. Briana had manned up and had the baby after all. It was the least he could do.

He didn't exactly have any labor  pains during the  chopping process but his nearly digested dinner made several serious attempts at an encore appearance.  Finally, the nastiness was over and all the ice cube trays were in the freezer so they could be conveniently popped into Brianas morning smoothies for several weeks to come. 

Now we come to the one question more important than all the others.

Some time later Kaden, my oldest grandson, asked me if he could use our frozen berries and make a smoothie.  Moments later he called with a question a 17 year old should never have to ask. "Grandma, is this frozen raspberries or is this Auntie Bries placenta?"