Motherhood

That Time My Daughter Tried To Perform A Cesarean On Me

I wasn’t even pregnant

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I think most little girls want to have a little sister.

I know my daughter did. She wanted one so bad she was prepared to take extreme measures.

My first child, Erma, was a 2-and-a-half-year-old when I gave birth to my son. He was a 10-pound footling breech who refused to stay head down even with two external versions, so I reluctantly had a cesarean.

Erma knew her little brother had been born through a hole cut in my abdomen. The scar was healed but still highly visible.

Here’s the most unbelievable part of this story.

At some point, I somehow managed to relax in a kidless bath.

Yes, I know, you always thought the concept of a mother spending time in a bathroom alone was a myth, but I somehow did manage to get into a bathtub all by myself on one particular day.

My eyes were closed and I felt fully relaxed — until I felt a sawing motion against my lower belly.

I went on full alert. Standing by the tub was my toddler daughter, holding a knife.