I’ll admit it, I’m squeamish. I don’t deal well with bodily functions or wounds or other icky things. At my high school job, I cut my thumb on the deli slicer. I couldn’t even look at it while it was healing because it turned my stomach. I would take off the bandage, throw some peroxide on it, and re-bandage it without look directly at it. My step-mother had to check it out for me to ensure it was healing. When we had our dog neutered, my husband had to check his stitches because it grossed me out. Ticks freak me out! I always have to ask someone else to remove it because I can’t stand looking at that little parasite buried in my skin. If anyone around me throws up, I have to close my eyes, cover my ears, and breath through my mouth until my dry heaves subside. If I can hear, smell or see someone getting sick, I will too. I’ve changed dirty diapers but it’s been years and I recall it making me gag.

People (when I say people I mean mothers because I rarely hear men talk about dealing with these things) talk about dealing with vomit, poop, and blood in a very blasé manner. They don’t seem repulsed at all. A woman in my office was talking about her child being sick over the weekend. She said that her daughter threw up and had a poopy diaper explosion at the same time while sitting in her highchair. Then she laughed! I’m sitting there wondering how I would deal with that and my first thought was that I would have to call Steve and ask him to come home from work to clean it up. She assured me it is different when it is your child. I know as a mom I will have to step up and deal with gross things but I have trouble believing that I will suddenly be laughing about these things. I just imagine gagging my way through them. So my question, dear readers, is this true? Were you squeamish but discovered motherhood made you less so?