ldren ask where the place is, and many think
it is the stomach. Other children have said so. "The place is called the
uterus, u-t-e-r-u-s, and is a little sac that stretches as the baby
grows." You don't _have_ to say all this. Whether you do or not depends
upon your child. Some children, the younger ones, may let you off with a
word. Others must have more detail. It's all an individual matter.
Anyway, you keep on answering as long as the questions come, and _no
longer_. (Sometimes enthusiasm runs away with us.)

We need not be surprised, once the matter of pregnancy is established,
to be confronted with a swift second question, "How does the baby get
out of the mother?" Sure enough, how does he? About five years ago I put
this question to a class of high-school-senior girls and requested
written answers. "They are born"; "they leave the mother through an
opening"; "they come from the mother in some way"--these were the best
answers. Most of the others read, "I'm uncertain about it"; "it's very
hazy in my mind"; "I wish you would explain exactly"; "I've always
wondered"; and so on.

An explanation of the process of birth is the second foundation square
of the whole structure. Pregnancy is the first. One depends upon the
other, so we say: "In every mother there is a passage that leads from
the place where the baby is growing. When the baby is ready to live by
himself as a separate little person, he is brought down the passage and
out through an opening into the world. This coming into the world is
called being born. Another word for the same thing is 'birth.' Your
birthday is your being-born day."

Many mothers like to adopt a bit of drama that can be done with the
hands and arms to illustrate their verbal explanations. The pantomime
makes the story simpler and helps relieve self-consciousness. "Suppose
the baby grows in here," you say, cupping your hands together with the
wrists straight and parallel. "Between my wrists is the passageway
leading to the outside. When the baby is ready to be born, the
passageway widens and lets the baby through. It's a good deal like
swallowing, only the other way around. Your food slips down a passage
into your stomach, _out_ of sight. The baby slips down a passage _into_
sight!" There is your story of birth in a nutshell.

Little boys and girls, too, are often troubled at the thought of birth.
It seems an impossible feat. So you explain the contraction of the
muscles, the size of a