A Birthday Story

01.22.2011

Thirty-six and half years ago, upon finding out she was pregnant with me, my mom went back to school and, while pregnant, took a chemistry class whose final was scheduled for this day (today). The instructor told my mom that he had no problem with her taking his class entering her 9^th month of pregnancy as long as she promised to not go into labor during the final. She agreed because my due date wasn’t until a week later.

What she didn’t promise is that I wouldn’t come on that day at all. When she called to tell him that she wouldn’t be showing up to the final because she was in labor and asked if she could postpone taking the exam, he tossed in a joke (which I can’t remember) and let her take it at a later date. True to my nature, I hate being late and always try to arrive early.

I wonder what our child’s delivery story will be…

(It will probably somehow involve me calming Rob down.)

An All-Around Oddball

01.20.2011

One of Rob’s cousins is having her baby in two months and I was thinking about what it must be like being in your last trimester. I then momentarily put myself in her shoes (as best I could, of course) and thought, “I’d have about 8 weeks left until the baby is born.”

I freaked out. I mean f-r-e-a-k-e-d out with slightly altered breathing. I had to remind myself that I was only conducting a mental exercise. I think I’m probably the only person on the planet that is this terrified of pregnancy and childbirth. I feel like this makes me such a weak individual and that those women who’ve given birth have some sort of a special power for which I got passed over.

I mean, most women can’t wait to a mom. I, obviously, can.

Most women want to be depended on. Just the idea of that makes me cringe.

Most women have a checklist of things they want to accomplish with a family (like have kids, buy a house, kiddie sleepovers, etc). I never made a checklist like that but I certainly have a checklist of the things I want to accomplish.

There are women who can’t stop having babies. I tip-toe around contemplating if I should just have one.

These and other things I’ve observed over the years make me feel inadequate as a woman, like I’m missing some sort of a screw somewhere in the maternal department. I’ve certainly grown more comfortable with the idea of having kids in the last 10 months or so; there’s no argument there. But I still haven’t felt that spark that women talk about. It’s more like, “Well, I’m about to turn 36, if we’re gonna do it, let’s do it.”

Is that any way to start a family?

I sometimes watch the TLC show Say Yes to the Dress and there have been brides who tried on dresses and despite their family and friends saying they look amazing, the brides say they don’t feel that “wow factor” that they say you have to feel when you find a dress that’s “the one.” That’s how I feel on the topic of having kids. I don’t feel that “must-have-a-kid-wow factor.” And I feel like that’s wrong somehow, even makes me feel slightly cheated. Although, thinking back to my own wedding, I was the oddball bride who did not care AT ALL what my dress looked like, all I cared about was that my mom made it. I had the world’s most simple dress because, to me, it wasn’t about the dress. It was about sealing my love, commitment and friendship with Rob.

So there you have it. Odball all around. Sigh…

HypnoBirthing

12.10.2010

HypnoBirthing.[1] Ready for this?

It started in the early 1990s and is gaining ground. Women are turning to hypnotherapy for childbirth as an alternative to medication and helping to minimize pain. Now, because I tend to be unconventional, I’m actually quite interested in this. I believe the mind is a powerful tool and we don’t use it as much as we should. I’m also someone who can become more focused than anyone I know which is why I’m convinced I have an abnormal tolerance for pain. I can see myself digging HypnoBirthing.

The catch? It’s damn expensive. But, now that I think about it, I wonder how much an epidural costs. (checking Google.) Huh, apparently, back in 2007, an epidural cost “roughly” $1,000 with insurance covering about 90%. Good ol’ insurance. You know it wouldn’t cover anything alternative like HypnoBirthing.

There was one item with which I disagreed. The HypnoBirthing founder, Marie Mongan, claims is that doctors force a woman to push. She states in her book, “Pushing can be counterproductive and actually slow down the birthing process.” This doesn’t make sense to me. Every mom I’ve talked to in more detail about childbirth says there’s an urge to push, your body physically wants to push. In fact, I saw on one of those baby shows once where a woman felt the urge to push and the doctor encouraged her not to because her cervix wasn’t ready. So I’m not quite sure what Ms. Mongan means. Other than that, I would be so down to investigate this further.

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[1] http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703493504576007512674579874.html?mod=yhoofront It’s very difficult to read the article because of the black background. Hit print and read it that way.

A Birth Story

09.04.2010

If anyone is reading this and has had a child, I welcome sharing your child’s birth story, your feelings, thoughts, etc. Especially if it’s a funny story.

I haven’t given birth, but I will still share a birth story. While in college, I worked at a coffee shop and one day a new manager came in with her little girl (about 1 yrs old) and she and I immediately bonded. I started babysitting after my shifts and on the days I wasn’t going to school, and very soon after my boss got pregnant again. In the 9 months, I grew very close to the family and, because they were having a home birth, they asked me to participate and watch their daughter. I agreed, flattered and not knowing at all what to expect.

Around the time of the due date, I went out with my best friend one night to do our usual ritual of dinner at Johnny Rockets and a movie. But for reasons I can’t remember, we were back at my house at about 9 pm and my mom said that I got a call from the expecting parents, who I'll call Sarah and Ted. I returned the call and Sarah’s water had broken and wanted me ASAP. Luckily I lived 2 minutes away, so I went to their house and one hour went by, the next hour went by, then the third. Nothing was happening. Somewhere close to midnight they sent me home but then at 4:30 am they called again. Sarah was in hard labor.

Once at their house, I went to get the girl, who was with one of the midwives, but I had to cross the parent’s bedroom to get to her. As I crossed the room, I glanced at the bathroom where Sarah was sitting on the toilet in extreme pain with Ted holding her head/hair in the palms of his hands. I don’t know how to explain how in awe I was with this image. There was such beauty in that moment despite the moans of pain coming from Sarah.

The little girl (who had just recently turned 2) and I hung out in the kitchen occupying ourselves with various activities until about 6 am when we were called in to the room where Sarah was, by now, in an inflated tub of water. 18 minutes later their son was born. In those 18 minutes and immediately following, I felt such power and even more beauty that even though I wasn’t physically giving birth myself, I understood why people consider the birth of a baby to be such a miracle. It was nothing like how you see it on TV or the movies… There was such a sense of spirituality and a deeper, unexplainable gift given to me in those moments that, at the risk of sounding cliché, it transformed me. Hearing that little baby take his first breath was magical. Next month he turns 14 and, unfortunately, the family no longer lives in CA. As a result, I recently found out that his memory of me is fading which wrenches my heart. But my memory of him won’t fade. Of that I can be sure.

Childbirth and Rollercoasters

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.

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[1] I’ll address the issue of an epidural tomorrow.