03.18.2010
I was watching the TLC show titled A Baby Story and I wish I didn’t intellectualize everything. It can be exhausting!
[Just a side note, TLC should rename their station TES, The Exploitation Station. (Idea courtesy of Rob.)]
Pregnancy fascinates me, terrifies me and repulses me all at the same time. I feel the same way when I’ve cut myself deeply. I acknowledge that what I’m about to say is going to sound completely bizarre but I feel like the woman kind of gets robbed by not being able to see the baby come out of her. Everyone stands there staring at her but the woman doesn’t get to see. I suppose she could ask for a mirror, but I doubt that’s on a woman’s mind at that moment. And I guess while giving birth you don’t really care to see something like that. It’s just something that’s crossed my mind; weird, I know.
I’ve witnessed a childbirth before and I found the entire event to by a beautiful experience. Hearing the first breath a child takes touched my heart in a way I could’ve never imagined and watching the parents cradle their new addition, welcoming him into the world, was wonderful. It’s hard to describe and, I guess, it’s one of those things I shouldn’t try to intellectualize. It’s definitely emotional.
Just like when watching that show. I often find myself welling up with the mother after she gave birth. Why does that happen? I’m, by nature, not an emotional person and I’m constantly surprised at this. I don’t know these people on TV. Other than the 14 minutes or so, I haven’t really entered their lives, know their history, or carry any loyalty to them. And yet, there I am, wiping tears as they hold their newborn.
I sometimes play a game with myself and imagine myself in the birthing room and then I feel the onset of a panic attack. The only thing I can compare it to is a roller coaster. I don’t like them and the only kinds I can kind of deal with are the ones at Disneyland. Splash Mountain is always the worst for me. I enjoy it all the way up until that last hill that you climb. My palms get clammy and I start thinking, “Why did I do this? I hate this. Get me out of here!” The top is the worst when you see the whole park in that split second before you drop; it’s kind of like I’ve peaked in a moment of insanity, then I put my head down and scream. Once at the bottom, I look up, laugh, and think about how much fun that was and I find myself entertaining the idea of doing it again.
So in the fantastical world that is my imagination, that’s how I see myself giving birth. “Why did I do this? I hate this. Get me out of here!” Except…the “ride” is longer than 3 minutes, the climb up that last hill can take hours and it’s extremely painful.[1] Why do women do this over and over? I suppose you take the risk that, like once at the bottom of Splash Mountain, you find that the ride may have been bumpy and, at times, scary, the overall experience was worth it because it provided more pleasure than anything else.
[1] I’ll address the issue of an epidural tomorrow.
They do have a mirror in the room, they start to position it when there's one or two pushes before the baby comes out, to inspire you if you see part of the head. But for me, they forgot to adjust it, so I had a nice view of the floor. I was saying "um, excuse me, hey, would you adjust the mirror, I can't see..." but no one heard me because the cord was wrapped around Lauren's neck and they were dealing with that. So probably good I didn't see it!
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