New Mommy's exit their "initiation ceremony" (AKA the delivery room experience) having left a couple of personal belongings behind. Even through New Mommy's tears of joy and euphoric delight over her new baby, she stops for a split second to recognize that what she's lost, she can never reclaim again.

In that moment, as she's being wheeled out of the delivery room, she says a silent farewell to 2 soldiers left on the battlefield; Shame and Dignity. Like most mothers, I parted ways with Shame and Dignity the evening my daughter was born- Wednesday July 22nd. Now I'm not saying that this came as a complete shock to me, I read "Tell-Alls", spoke with honest women . . . fair warning was given. But that doesn't make it an easy goodbye.

I remember the moment we had our final farewell . . . it was about an hour prior to delivering my daughter right before the pushing began. I was draped in a paper thin oversized hospital gown that clumsily dropped off to expose by entire shoulder . . . faded gray stripes, red stars and navy moons- the most unattractive frock available for adornment.

My legs were hoisted above my body in stirrups and I was Britney Spears style panty-free. Now, due to my massive belly, I had not really been able to see my . . . ehhhhem . . . "down below area" for the past 3 months so I was at that moment relying on a combination of laser hair removal and makeshift grooming with a mirror.

There was poking, prodding, puncturing, cutting, stretching, and fluid leakage. Now, all of this might not have been so bad but when I opened my eyes in between contractions I looked up (the exact moment when Shame and Dignity peaced out) to see that there where 8 strangers intently staring at my Va Jay Jay as though it were a Picaso . . . and maybe it looked like one at that point, I don't know.

All in scrubs, as though to protect their anonymity . . . only their eyes exposed. I felt like Tom Cruise in the movie when his mask was removed. You could tell that each member of my delivery room audience was wincing underneath their swine flu masks. One man with his head tilted to the right, hand under his chin . . . another leaning in to get a closer look, 2 women discussing the situation with one another, pointing, and jotting notes as though they were judging a Best in Show contest.

It was like anyone with a hospital badge thought it was a free admission pass to hop on the crazy birthing ride. Really it was more like I was a circus freak . . . an attraction set up for people just to stop by, look, and be horrified.

Then it was over. Still exposed, I laid there holding my baby rejoicing over her birth. At that moment I had completely forgotten about my former friends Shame and Dignity. And then, I remembered them. In what seemed a gesture of pity, one of the witnesses of the Exodus removed his mask and posed the question, "Want me to take a picture for you?" The flash was going off before I even had a moment to ask him to wait for me to cover up.

Ugh . . . welcome to Mommyhood, right?