Until about 5 minutes ago I thought I was alone with my particular fear.
Yes, it’s a fear of belly buttons. Stop laughing at the back there…phobias aren’t supposed to be rational…
There are two big moments where omphalophobics (?) really suffer during parenthood:
1. With the question “Do you want to cut the cord?”…Sorry? Pardon? Come again? I can’t even begin to find the words for how much I completely don’t, in any way whatsoever, ever, under any circumstances, even if my life and that of my family were at risk, want to cut the cord. I not only don’t want to cut the cord, I also don’t want to see it, touch it, go near it or think about it. And frankly, I also want to stop writing about it as soon as possible as well.
2. When that damn plastic clipped nastiness that is the remains of the fooking cord falls off. Usually somewhere unexpected (like in your damn bed), usually when the omphalophobic is in charge. No. Bad arrangement. I vote for leaving your newborn in hospital as a matter of course until that fucker is sorted out, cleaned up, no longer an issue. In fact, I vote for a surgical procedure to seal up the belly button as soon as birth occurs. If we did that for a few thousand years surely evolution would just start producing kids without the need? What would be wrong with just simply NOT having belly-buttons? It’s not like they bring anything to the party, apart from fluff.
Do you think it’s alright to be completely in love with 99.8% of your new son, but not the last 0.2%…?
Anyway, what was this blog post about again? Ah yeah, Rohan’s plastic thingy dropped off, mercifully early, and I didn’t have to deal with it. Thank fuck for that.