Ok, not mine. I didn’t do it yet. Psych!
I have an acquaintance who has an interesting one, though. I want to sort of do what she did. While she was pregnant, she would tell everyone the story of how she would give birth:
I’ll be working at home with my husband. I’ll start to have contractions. I’ll finish up my work and walk to the hospital. I’ll push the baby out. It will hurt, but not that much.
Here’s what actually happened:
I went to see Showtime At the Apollo in Harlem with my mom. For some reason, we decided to take the bus the 60-some-odd blocks home. I started to complain about the seats on the bus. They made my back hurt. After complaining several times, my mom looked at me and said, maybe you’re in labor. Nah. But we got off at the hospital anyway. I was in labor. I was six cm dilated. I labored for an hour and a half, then pushed the baby out. It didn’t hurt that much.
Ok, ok, Mr. T, I’m no fool. Don’t pity me. I know it is going to hurt. But I like her birth story. I think about it a lot. I think I need to draft my own birth story. Perhaps her positive visualization benefited her somehow.
Around nine in the morning, I’m home cooking turkey meatloaf to freeze for post-baby time. I’m either wearing a big Donna Reed skirt with an apron with green apples on it, or cut off jean shorts with a big belt, a black Brooklyn tank top and bare feet (you choose). I start to feel some contractions. Painful, but also a little tickly like a combination of Braxton Hicks and period cramps. I call my honey. She comes home from work. I finish making the meatloaf. I bounce on the birthing ball, while my honey gathers the suitcase and the car seat and the little bag of food and pillows. We slow dance in the living room for a while. When they start getting stronger and closer together, I jump in the bathtub and have a glass of wine. It is still happening, but it doesn’t hurt as much in the tub with the wine. My brother arrives to take over Cakie duty. He picks him up from my neighbor’s house and plays with him until bedtime, while my honey and I take a short walk around the block. I stop once in a while and lean on a tree. It hurts, but I can handle it. We get home. Cakie’s in bed. I go in and kiss him between contractions. We call the midwife. She asks how far apart they are. I tell her. She says, “Drink another glass of wine, then come on over to the hospital.” I enjoy my wine. My driving friend (I’m not sure which one. Somebody will be home,) comes over and loads up the car. We have an uneventful ride to the hospital. No traffic. No stress. I notice birds over the river between contractions. I notice the colors of the lights on the Empire State building. My driver and my honey remain calm and cool. I do some moaning, but I don’t puke and my water doesn’t break. (I need to use the damn hot tub in the birthing center, folks!) We get to the hospital and a clean room awaits us. I labor for a few more hours, then I push the baby out. He’s fine, we’re fine, we all fall asleep in the bed together. We wake up together and spend the next hours bonding. One of my good friends shows up with a roast beef sandwich from Bouchon (hint, hint). Done.
I just have no idea about the pain, so I’ll assume it will be huge, but I’ll be able to handle it. I need to have an uneventful ride to the hospital in my draft because that’s the part that stresses me out the most.
I know yesterday I was a little hypocritical. I keep saying it is silly to induce or to even want to, then I did something that is pretty much inducing before my due date even got here. All I can say is, I never claimed to be sane. I think I’m back on track today. I can handle another week or week and a half of this pregnancy. It is not very hard. I’m not working and I’m not in pain. And I enjoy sleep. Sleep is good. For those of you who are sure I’ll give birth today, I will say that today was the due date my ob gave me with the ultrasound, about which I argued with her much and eventually left her practice. It will be interesting to see how far past her version of my due date I actually go. Or if I do give birth today, I guess I’ll have to stop by her office and let her say, “I told you so!”