“But how did your kitty have her babies without a doctor there?” My then-seven-year-old son looked up at me after hearing my mom and me I talk about Miss Kitty. Miss Kitty was a stray we’d adopted when I was about his age. On the day my mom was talking about, Miss Kitty had been very pregnant in the morning, when we left for work and school. When we got home, later that day, she was skinny and there were four kittens under my bed.
By this age, my son had already asked how he got out of my tummy. He had seen pregnant women and knew they had babies in their tummies, and he started asking about how they came out when he was about four. I had always told him the truth: that the doctor did surgery on me and got him out of my uterus. In adult-speak, my son knew he was a C-section baby. Naturally, he thought all babies were born like this, so he was wondering how the heck the kittens got out of Miss Kitty when she was home alone. Clearly, no doctor was present.
I thought for a few seconds, trying to find the words, and then I told him, “Well, some moms have babies from their vaginas. They don’t need surgery like I did. The babies just come out of their vaginas.”
My son looked up at me with a confused face and asked, “But I didn’t come out of your vagina, right?”
I answered, “Correct. You were a C-section baby. The doctor cut my belly and got you out.”
He looked relieved. “Good. Because then I would smell like vagina.”
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