Full Body Chills - Labor & Delivery

Episode Date: October 26, 2022

A story of seasoned nurse and the many newborns she delivered.Labor & DeliveryWritten by Ashley FlowersYou can read the original story and view the episode art at fullbodychillspodcast.com. Looking for more chills? Follow Full Body Chills on Instagram @fullbodychillspod. Full Body Chills is an audiochuck production. Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck

This episode was produced with audio effects in full surround sound. For the best experience, we kindly recommend you listen with headphones. Hi listeners, I'm Nikki Boyer, and I have a story I want to tell you. A story of a seasoned nurse and the many newborns she delivered. So gather around and listen close. When you work in the labor and delivery ward for as long as I have, everyone assumes you love babies. I don't love babies. I like them enough.

And maybe at one point I loved babies, but it's the mothers who really ruined it for me. The self-righteous, know-it-all new moms, who 24 hours before walking onto my floor had never held a baby in their life. But now, with breasts full of milk and a bleeding uterus, can confidently say, all of us childless people just don't understand the bond between a baby and their mother. That instant connection that forms. It's so primal and unmistakable. They can never describe

it because they insist it's unknowable. Unknowable until you do it yourself. The goddamn superiority they hold over you. It's like the second they push out those lumps of gooey flesh, they become part of another class of humans. And it's them versus us. The mothers and the childless who can't possibly ever know real joy. Oh, sure, we may think we are happy, but that's because we don't know better. It's such antiquated BS. And even the most liberal, progressive, I-am-marched-for-women's-rights feminists do it. They may not say as much, but it never fails. They ask me if I have kids while they're holding their freshly washed offspring. And when I say no, I can always feel their pity.

A woman so old with nothing to show for her life. Never mind, I had a fulfilling career, traveled the world, had hobbies, and slept a full eight hours every night. They feel sorry that I haven't looked into the eyes of something I have created and known true and unconditional love. They're just babies. Whatever you were before, you're still that same crummy version of you. Now with less sleep and a whole nother person you're going to teach all your bad behaviors to. Congratulations. These moms look into the eyes of their babies like they're going to change the world. Well, I hate to break it to you ladies.

I've been doing this long enough that I can promise you, 999 times out of a thousand, your kid's gonna grow up, get mediocre grades, and a job they'll probably hate going into every day. They'll litter and lie and become just as average as you are so it's the moms i take issue with i'm not trying to hurt the babies and i don't what i do what i have done doesn't affect them long term, I'm sure. Because despite what these moms think, there isn't anything special about them or their precious bond. All these moms, just like all these babies, are equally average. So it's not hurting anyone. I'm just trying to prove a point.

Though it's a point I won't be able to prove until after I'm gone. I won't be there when my letter is read. When you, whoever you are, have the burden of deciding what to do with it. Don't get me wrong, I would love to be there. But this isn't the kind of secret that can be shared while I'm alive. Unless I want to be out of work forever or maybe even go to jail. No. This is the kind of secret you take with you to your grave.

Though I do want people to know what I've done. If I didn't, I wouldn't have kept such detailed records. Along with this letter, I'm including one other file on the flash drive. An Excel spreadsheet, where I kept detailed records of all the babies I swap. For each child, you'll find their birth name date of birth mother's name and room number at the time of writing this I have swapped 436 babies over the 26 years I've been a labor and delivery nurse my notes are meticulous what people do with them after i'm gone is up to you i know i won't be around to see any of their faces heck some of them might not

even be around either but i have spent countless hours imagining what they'll think and say and do if they ever learn the truth. Some of them will be in denial. I think I lied for attention because little Johnny is the spitting image of his daddy. Our Haley Grace has the same birthmark as her mama. It's impossible, of course. There isn't a speck of their DNA in that child if they actually did a test. But their pride won't let them believe it. Ugh, they were so smug. But even for the ones that won't get the DNA test, who will pretend they never heard my story,

the ones who will actively run from it, I'll keep them up at night they'll think of all the times they breastfed a baby that wasn't theirs that feeling they've fostered every single day even as their kid grew up to be an average little brat who failed their expectations. They still felt pride because they were theirs, a part of them. What does it mean now that they know they're not? They're going to love them, of course. I'm adopted myself. I had great parents who really did love me. I'm not saying they won't love their kids. It's actually going to kill them to know they could be taken from them, or that their kids might have questions about them someday. Maybe they'll want to find their birth mother.

I wonder if some of them will make excuses, blame the less desirable parts of who their kids turned into on those other people's genes, and daydream about how their perfect child probably got ruined by some other family. I know people will hate me because I took a baby from their mother. Oh god, how could I? Do you know how precious that bond is? But that's the damn point, isn't it? None of them knew. When they asked me if I had kids and then pitied me for my answer, it took everything in me to not laugh.

That's not your baby latched to your breast. Your baby's down the hall feeding off an equally annoying new mother. I don't know how many times I'll do this. I'm edging close to retirement, and each time I say it will be the last. Oh, but on days like today, a day when two little girls were born at almost the same time, and they look so similar. The mom in 204 asked me if I had kids. So, maybe just one more. is an AudioChuck production. This episode was written by Ashley Flowers and read by Nikki Boyer. This story was modified slightly for audio retelling, but you can find the original in full on our website. So what do you think, Chuck?

Do you approve?