When I was in labor with our son, my husband turned to me, gently wiped the damp strands of hair out of my eyes and asked, “Is this really better than being at the dentist?”

“Yes,” I gasped before the pain took my breath, and voice, away. In case it isn’t obvious, I hate going to the dentist more than anything.

And, to be fair, I really like my dentist. If we passed each other on the street and he suddenly burst into flame, I would gladly …