CLANCY OVERELL | Editor | CONTACT
A chilled out Sunshine Coast couple have today revealed to their family and friends that they will be having their baby at home.
Not a home birth, with a midwife present and a local doctor who has been briefed on the situation, but a freebirth.
The type where you don’t even inform the local hospital that you are up the duff in the first place. No scans, no visits. They didn’t even piss on a pregnancy test. It just purely vibes.
They will just give birth at home in Eumundi – well, they call it Eumundi. It’s actually the outskirts of Yandina.
Maybe they’ll have a few friends there for the beer – but nobody who could ever be of any use if something went wrong.
They’ve come to this decision because, despite their off-grid aesthetic – they actually both have an average screen time of around 15 hours a day, respectively.
Butter Hibiscus (33), a website designer for her father’s Noosa-based real estate agency by day, and devout researcher of contrarian medical theories that make her feel smarter than her ICU nurse sister by night, says she wants as little interventions as possible on her journey to bring her little bundle of positive energy earthside.
Her civil partner, Banjo Clemente (38, unqualified carpenter/son of a Melbourne investment banker) agrees with everything his wife says and actually gets quite aggressive at even the slightest insinuation that somebody might have a problem with it all.
“It’s our choice man, at least it should be anyway” he says, rapidly changing his mood from rage to cheerfulness in the same way that blokes who smoke too much weed seem to do.
“Childbirth is the closest that anyone will ever get to nature, why would we let the government get involved? Haha”
This couple are just two of a growing community of Australians who’s brains are so fucked from social media that they have decided to dismiss hundreds of years of medical science and midwifery to just do it themselves with no technology except the iPhone filming everything.
With this toxic trend of freebirthing carrying with it catastrophic rates of infant injury and much worse, Banjo and Butter insist they feel liberated by the risks involved.
When asked if they can see any scenario where they might end up needing to use an actual hospital, Butter giggles, before scowling.
“Why. So they can put a microchip in my babies neck!?” she spits.
Our reporter then asked to use the loo, where he took the opportunity to climb out the window and run gingerly down the hill back to his idling Subaru, leaving a lukewarm cup of apricot tea on the kitchen table.
