Birth Plan

Last week I had a meeting with my OBGYN to discuss labor. It went like this:

Dr. Amy: How long was your last labor?

Me: 7 hours.

Dr. Amy: Oh. You should come in after your first contraction.

There was no lofty discussion of a birth plan, no questions about whether we could dim the lights in the hospital room, bring music and aromatherapy, employ a "birthing ball." With Roan, we discussed all these things at length, and then I spent about an hour in the hospital before I pushed him out. There wasn't any time for that shit. Even if there had been, I was too overwhelmed by pain to notice the terrible lighting, the lack of soothing smells, and my screams drowned out any music.

I have a hard time believing Fred's labor will be any less terrible. I respond to pain by becoming angry and withdrawn. I hope to have enough self control this time around to reign some of that in. Though the "labor flashbacks" I've been having are not encouraging. They are traumatizing, and leave me feeling profoundly pissed off.

To psyche myself out I've been playing this game, trying to come up with all the things that people do voluntarily that are worse than unmedicated childbirth. Like running a marathon. Or trekking across Antarctica and having to carry one of those unwieldy backpacks. Traffic school. That's all I've come up with so far. And the problem with this game is that with those activities, you can always just quit, or take a break. Childbirth is unstoppable. You have no control. You can't drop out. There are no breaks.

It's hard for me to have a positive attitude.

My birth plan with Roan involved a lot of props, eloquently rehearsed arguments against any intervention, and a desperate hope for an orgasmic labor, promised to me by the Bradley Method, provided Jay could get those massage techniques just right (he didn't).

My birth plan with Fred is simple: get to the hospital before having the baby.