WHO GIVES A SHIT, BREEDER EDITION: Where Did You Pop Out Yer Kid?

Because all natural births should be immortalized in stone.  (Photo: Gawker.)

I hate to break it to you guys, but the secret's out: the inhabitants of  Brownstone Brooklyn like to breed.  (That's us, in case you're keeping score.)  Gothamist's reporting that our BREEDERS are so fancy-ass, we refuse to pop our babies out in this borough, despite the fact that we carry around our Coop groceries in Brooklyn tote bags, and tell everyone how so over living in Manhattan we are.  (Truth, if you still have that scorecard handy.)

So, your Q of the day: BREEDERS, if your spawn entered the world in this fine city, where was he/she/it born?  And I suppppose if you're joining the legion of Park Slope Parents soonish, you're welcome to respond, too, since lately I'm getting the feeling every fucking person in this city besides me is pregnant.  (Yes, I give up my seat on the F...but do YOU?)

As snarky as I'm dying to get on this one, I suppose I'll have to step back and let you all steer the ship; the closest I've ever gotten to a Brooklyn hospital is my daily walk past Methodist.  (Side note: I do have a few friends--mostly native New Yorkers--who carry around cards that read, "If found injured in Brooklyn, transport to Manhattan hospital for medical treatment.")  Fire away in the comments.