The Husband and I started going to birth preparation classes this week. We opted to do the classes at a local non-profit for families, because they focus on empowering parents through education in order to make the birth a positive and comfortable experience. The last thing I wanted was to get trapped in a class that scared me — like a teacher running through every possible scenario of what could go wrong or screening a bunch of outdated videos in which bloody babies are yanked from snarled, 1970s porn crotches.
But this class is good. It’s led by my doula, and there are two other couples who are expecting baby boys around the same time. During the first class, we discussed the stages of labor, comfort techniques, and how to make a hospital room feel less hospital-ly. We also watched a birth video that was so real and beautiful and emotionally raw, I got a little teary.
OK, a lot teary.
In that environment, I didn’t feel dumb asking my dumb questions. For instance, I wasn’t clear on what the placenta actually is, where it came from and what happens to it. (If you’re wondering too: It’s an organ that attaches the baby to my uterus, I recently grew it just for this very purpose, and I’ll have to “birth” it after the baby is born. Freaky, man.)
Big lady in front of a big lady.
I also wondered what will happen when I poop during labor — because let’s be honest, I will. (Supposedly there’s a sack attached near the end of the table under the stirrups, kinda like the butt bags that horses wear during a parade. This is where the poop goes.) I’ll be honest — just knowing there’s a system in place makes me feel much more comfortable about defecating on a table.
Before the next class, The Husband and I need to come up with a birth plan. A lot of people tend to say those words with capital letters, as though it is the most important document I will ever write. BIRTH PLAN. It is supposed to go into my HOSPITAL BAG, two more words often said with deep reverence, apparently the most important purse I will ever carry.
The birth plan is designed to help choreograph the labor and delivery process. I get why this is important — it’s supposed to make my wishes very clear. But I also know that life doesn’t adhere to plans, and I want to remain flexible about delivery.
I really feel like this birth plan is something I should leave up to the baby. You want to come out, baby? Terrific! Have I got a canal for you! You need a C-section? Fine. I’m not crazy about that, but we’ll work it out. Whatever makes you healthy and happy.
During my ideal labor, I’d like to have my Spotify “Push It” playlist thumping. I’d like to have some snacks. And I’d like a framed photo of Beyonce on the table next to me — because nothing inspires confidence and strength like Queen Bey. But really, I’ll just be happy if I don’t have the baby in the elevator.
Here’s how things are going this week:
Baby: As big as a pineapple or a cantaloupe or something else fat and juicy.
Shower: My friends Xochitl and Nelsy had a fancy lady pampering day for me, and it was exactly what I needed. I’m grateful to have such beautiful friends in my life.
Sassy lady baby shower.
There were cupcakes …
OMFG.
… and a visit to a spa, where I had the loveliest prenatal massage. Then we spent all afternoon soaking in the saltwater pools.
Spa … ahhhh.
Cravings: Strawberries, which is strange because I have a minor allergy to them. This allergy is so minor, I only discovered it about a year ago when I had the following conversation with The Husband:
ME: The only thing I don’t like about strawberries is how they make your face numb after eating them.
HUSBAND: Strawberries don’t make your face numb.
ME: Uh, yes. They do.
HUSBAND: That’s not supposed to happen. You’re allergic to them.
Oh. So I have this allergy, but it has completely disappeared since I’ve been pregnant. And I have been eating a LOT of strawberries.
Perhaps I’m birthing a magic baby with the ability to remove allergies. In which case all you celiacs should get your money ready now, because I’m totally going to charge for that service. Cash only.
Also craving watermelon, mango and all the world’s avocados.
Body: I think maybe baby is going through a growth spurt. I’m hungry all the time, and my body is now all belly. I also had a body/self-image crisis this week, but I don’t feel like writing about it yet.
Reading: This review of “Labor Day: True Birth Stories By Today’s Best Women Writers.”
I love this part: “Yes, healthy living babies matter, yes, healthy living babies are the inarguable goal, but women’s bodies and minds — and the all-important connection between the two — matter also.”
