Would you give birth in an art gallery?  On purpose?  I’m guessing no.  Nor would I.  But then again I wouldn’t post a photo of my fetus on Facebook.  Call me a traditionalist, but I consider medical tests to be somewhat personal.  Sonograms and birthing are two sides of a similar coin (and not just in the procreational timeline.)

Birthing as “art” is pretty low on the Gypsy-Rose-Lee-having-no-talent rung of performance art.  Unless the “artist” did it while playing the trumpet, dancing, or adorned in light bulbs, I’m not sure it counts as a talent.  I’ve seen enough bad acting in my life to know that talent often need not get in the way of being on stage.  I would venture that our Lamaze performance artist is a subscriber to the “if it happens to me, it is interesting” school of thought.  But all art is some form of exhibitionism, isn’t it?  I’m less concerned with her personal display than I am with the sonogram as baby photo.

Medical test photos on Facebook are creepy.  A) it’s way too personal b) it’s a fetus, not an infant, anything could happen g-d forbid (which is why the test was done in the first place!) c) what in the world is the poster after as a response? “Oh your blurry blob looks just like you!”  After seeing one of these test results posted I started counting the years to my first colonoscopy.  Brace yourself world.

There are some out there who may not be ready to share their sonogram photos with the world.  Why, you ask?  Well because they conceived last night, so for them it is a photo of the pee stick.  That’s right.  Every friend and virtual friend can now see the results of a pregnancy test.  (I so wish I was being facetious, but oh my dears, I am still scrubbing my eyes.)  Remember when you didn’t discuss your pregnancy until the end of the first trimester?  Pish posh and rubbish.  I’m willing to venture that right at this moment, someone is updating her status with; “my temperature is elevated and the lights are dimmed.”

How did we develop this insatiable need for an audience?  When did the miracle of life diminish in its gravitas?  How is creating a life, not enough?  I struggle to resist my knee jerk reaction of pinning this on immaturity.  But I simply can’t help but equate this behavior with a toddler announcing to a group of adults that she successfully went potty.