Since I am about six weeks away from my due date, I am becoming increasingly uncomfortable at the thought of a six to ten pound baby coming out of such a very sensitive area of my body. The day I first learned the definition of the word “episiotomy” was traumatic, and the memory of it causes me to unconsciously cross my legs. I’m frequently asked whether or not I plan to request an epidural, and, honestly, the debate is still on.
Some of my friends who have recently delivered tout the miracle qualities of the epidural. In our birthing class, one husband announced that he had once been given an epidural for a surgical procedure, and it was a lovely, memorable experience. (Our birthing instructor was a bit chagrinned at his speech.) In fact, epidural supporters sing the medication’s praises so eloquently that I start to think that maybe I should get one right now, as soon as I finish penning this paragraph.
I have also spoken to many anti-epiduralists. They say that cave women have delivered babies without medication for millenia, and millions of cave women can’t be stronger than me.
It’s just that a lot of those cave women died in childbirth. Also, some of them might have liked an epidural, had it been offered to them.
And, I think I’m okay with these cave women being better at delivering babies than me. We all have our talents. I probably type faster than the whole lot of them.
My mother gave birth naturally, which is a bummer, really. No one likes to think that her mother is stronger than her. Also, since years have passed since her last baby was delivered, my mom can be quite flippant about it, saying childbirth is no big deal. I can’t help but think her memory of the experience must have dulled a bit. I’ve seen the Hollywood versions of pregnancy—Those women are screaming.
Further, in Meyer’s novel, one of the characters, Bella, is pregnant with a hybrid human-vampire child. Don’t think it’s unrealistic—Bella is married to a vampire, so it’s a rather logical turn in the plot. Anyway, in a disturbing birthing scene, the human-vampire baby violently rips and chews its way out of Bella’s womb. I want to dismiss this vivid writing as fantasy, but Meyer has three children, so I wonder if just a bit of personal experience slipped into the novel.
I do like the idea of being able to suck it up and give birth without medication. I like picturing myself as one of the ever powerful cave women, popping out a child and then saying nonchalantly, like my mother, that childbirth is no big deal (to people who weren’t there to witness my screaming). It’s nice to feel you can overcome pain. After my wisdom teeth were removed, I went for a long run just to show I could. (It didn’t go well. I swallowed a bit too much blood and felt rather ill, but I did it, and that’s the point, right?)
Some people are puzzled by my fear and ask me how I thought this pregnancy would end, but I always had hope that a fascinating (and safe) new technology would develop before my nine months ended to save me from the pain. I recently watched the new Star Trek movie with my husband and was intrigued by their “beaming up” technology. That looks perfect. I’m not even asking for anyone to be beamed onto a moving spaceship. That would be ridiculous and science fiction. I only want my baby to be beamed out of my body and into my arms—a very short distance.
In my birthing class, we watched a video about a woman who had an emergency labor. It happened so quickly that she had to give birth in her home. The point of the screening was to make us aware of this extreme situation, but the teacher spoke of emergency births like they were a bad thing. When the video ended, all of the expectant mothers looked at each other, a little envious of the woman we’d just watched.
We also watched a video on women giving birth and moaning to cope with the pain. It was very traumatic. The women looked like they might be dying. It was all eerily close to Stephenie Meyer’s description of labor.
I know I’ll be okay. I know I’m not the first woman to ever give birth (but it’s the first time for me, and that matters). I also have noted that there are second and third born children running around, so I guess the experience must be endurable. I’m still not sure if I’ll request an epidural or not, but as I’m equally terrified of someone piercing my spine with a needle, the debate continues.
Some of my friends who have recently delivered tout the miracle qualities of the epidural. In our birthing class, one husband announced that he had once been given an epidural for a surgical procedure, and it was a lovely, memorable experience. (Our birthing instructor was a bit chagrinned at his speech.) In fact, epidural supporters sing the medication’s praises so eloquently that I start to think that maybe I should get one right now, as soon as I finish penning this paragraph.
I have also spoken to many anti-epiduralists. They say that cave women have delivered babies without medication for millenia, and millions of cave women can’t be stronger than me.
It’s just that a lot of those cave women died in childbirth. Also, some of them might have liked an epidural, had it been offered to them.
And, I think I’m okay with these cave women being better at delivering babies than me. We all have our talents. I probably type faster than the whole lot of them.
My mother gave birth naturally, which is a bummer, really. No one likes to think that her mother is stronger than her. Also, since years have passed since her last baby was delivered, my mom can be quite flippant about it, saying childbirth is no big deal. I can’t help but think her memory of the experience must have dulled a bit. I’ve seen the Hollywood versions of pregnancy—Those women are screaming.
Further, in Meyer’s novel, one of the characters, Bella, is pregnant with a hybrid human-vampire child. Don’t think it’s unrealistic—Bella is married to a vampire, so it’s a rather logical turn in the plot. Anyway, in a disturbing birthing scene, the human-vampire baby violently rips and chews its way out of Bella’s womb. I want to dismiss this vivid writing as fantasy, but Meyer has three children, so I wonder if just a bit of personal experience slipped into the novel.
I do like the idea of being able to suck it up and give birth without medication. I like picturing myself as one of the ever powerful cave women, popping out a child and then saying nonchalantly, like my mother, that childbirth is no big deal (to people who weren’t there to witness my screaming). It’s nice to feel you can overcome pain. After my wisdom teeth were removed, I went for a long run just to show I could. (It didn’t go well. I swallowed a bit too much blood and felt rather ill, but I did it, and that’s the point, right?)
Some people are puzzled by my fear and ask me how I thought this pregnancy would end, but I always had hope that a fascinating (and safe) new technology would develop before my nine months ended to save me from the pain. I recently watched the new Star Trek movie with my husband and was intrigued by their “beaming up” technology. That looks perfect. I’m not even asking for anyone to be beamed onto a moving spaceship. That would be ridiculous and science fiction. I only want my baby to be beamed out of my body and into my arms—a very short distance.
In my birthing class, we watched a video about a woman who had an emergency labor. It happened so quickly that she had to give birth in her home. The point of the screening was to make us aware of this extreme situation, but the teacher spoke of emergency births like they were a bad thing. When the video ended, all of the expectant mothers looked at each other, a little envious of the woman we’d just watched.
We also watched a video on women giving birth and moaning to cope with the pain. It was very traumatic. The women looked like they might be dying. It was all eerily close to Stephenie Meyer’s description of labor.
I know I’ll be okay. I know I’m not the first woman to ever give birth (but it’s the first time for me, and that matters). I also have noted that there are second and third born children running around, so I guess the experience must be endurable. I’m still not sure if I’ll request an epidural or not, but as I’m equally terrified of someone piercing my spine with a needle, the debate continues.
