You are currently browsing the monthly archive for September 2008.
Dear Emby
Your 33rd week in utero was a tough one for Mommy. Daddy went to a work related conference in Canada, over 3000 miles away, and Mommy was more than a little scrared that you would decide to be born while he was gone. THANK YOU so much for electing to stay where it is warm and comfy and food and air are delivered like room service.
As you’ll discover, Mommy and Daddy are very close, so week long separations aren’t very easy for them. Mommy took a lot of late afternoon/early evening naps so she could stay up late to talk with Daddy after his day was over. As a result, we had some ketone issues between Mommy’s erratic eating and sleeping schedule, and one unfortunate incident where you decided that you didn’t like me eating peanut butter toast, and made me throw up on myself. Thanks–that was–charming.
It was a busy week for Mommy’s doctors. She saw her nutritionist and we talked about how my diet will change to reflect nursing you. I may be the only pregnant woman she’s ever met that whined about having to eat MORE carbs. I’m already struggling to eat the designated 180 a day for pregnancy-adding another 30 carbs is not an easy task for me. I also saw my allergist and we talked about Mommy going back on allergy shots when you’re born-which you’ll be grateful for, otherwise Mommy will be a zombie around your 6th month of life for pretty much the whole month. We also talked about food allergies and your risk factors for them-considering how much peanuts and peanut butter have figured heavily into my pregnancy diet, if there is going to be an issue, it’s probably too late to do anything about it. The thing is that I think the problem of food allergies is overstated and is the new thing to be totally FREAKED OUT over for parents. We’ll see what happens and if there is an issue, we’ll deal with it. I met a pediatrician that you will not be going to, and that was frustrating. Finally we had our weekly ATU appointment and all looked good.
Your great aunt stayed with me a few days to help me clean and organize the apartment for the baby shower the day that Daddy came home. Your Dada and Dadi came over and finished putting together IKEA furniture (bureaus for Mommy and Daddy) over the weekend. And because of all that, Mommy was able to get into the nursery and get a LOT done. All that’s left to do in there is to buy my glider (which we’re doing this weekend) and pick out your crib (which isn’t a huge deal since you won’t be sleeping there for quite some time).
On Sunday, your Daddy arrived home and your Auntie K threw us a baby shower with all our friends. It was an awesome day, and so many people are excited to meet you. I can’t wait to share the pictures with you when you’re older. You have some very talented honorary aunts…one knitted you a blanket, and one knitted you a bunny lovey that we’ll have with us in the hospital when you arrive. Your Uncle M and Auntie L also got you a GIANT Winnie the Pooh that will be bigger than you for years to come. Mommy and Daddy are a little jealous–we LOVE the giant Pooh bear.
As I write this, I’m 34 weeks and 1 day pregnant, which is another way of saying 41 days to go (at most).
We love you
Mommy (and Daddy)
Today marks a year exactly from my miscarriage. Tomorrow is the anniversary of my D&C.
Hope was part of my life for such a brief period of time. I knew of her existence for less than 30 days, but none of that matters to my heart. To my heart, she was my child, and I am still her mother, and a loss will never change that she was ours. She was the first child created out of our love and we wanted her desperately and we still grieve her loss.
I refer to her as a she, but the truth is that we will never know, and that is one of the little papercuts on my heart that will never heal. I wish I knew if I was mourning a daughter, or a son.
There is a box hidden away in a desk drawer that I do not allow myself to take out too frequently. It has a cd with Hope’s ultrasound pictures in it, cards that congratulated on her conception, cards that tried to help us in our grief and loss, a Christmas ornament for what should have been her first Christmas, and a partially finished baby blanket my mom had started making. They’re all I have to remind me that Hope was real, that she was mattered, and that my husband and I aren’t the only ones who lost her.
Seeing the new baby cousin was sweet for me because I focused on the joy of holding a new member of our family, and forced myself to NOT think about the fact that he was born within days of when Hope was due. Every time she came into my mind, I pushed her away.
The sad truth is that while I have moments of grief that are almost overpowering, today would be a thousand times worse if it weren’t for Emby.
I wanted someone to blame for Hope’s loss, and my uterus was the most conveinent target. I know now that it wasn’t my fault. Emby proves it. And in some ways that makes it harder. Knowing that it was just a bad sperm/egg match, or that my body (which does not do pregnancy well) just couldn’t handle the changes the first time. And so I am forced to accept it as one of life’s mysteries I will never know–another forever papercut on my heart.
The thing is, Hope deserves better than just sorrow. She deserves her father’s and my gratitude.
Hope made us really ready to become parents. Before Hope we had no idea whether we were ready or not. We just dove in, and when we got pregnant faster than either of us thought possible there was ambivalence. When we had to decide how hard to fight for Hope, she began to transform us. When we lost her, we lost her as parents. And when we made the decision to start trying again, it was with full knowledge of how painful loss really is and we were ready to shoulder and welcome the responsibility that pregnancy could bring.
Hope helped us grow up a bit. Hope drove home the lesson that being a parent means putting someone else’s life (literally) in your own hands. We had to decide when we would stop fighting for her, and we fought until she told us she was ready to go. While both of us had experienced things that were challenging or hard, neither of us had ever had an experience that was so far out of our control and yet were expected to make decisions. We lost some of our innocence, and naivete with Hope.
Hope drove home the lesson that life isn’t fair or predictable. She taught us that sometimes all you have are weeks, days, hours, minutes….hell, seconds. You have to tell someone that they matter because you don’t know how long they’ll be with you. She taught us that sometimes the odds are just so stacked against you that you are going to lose no matter how much you want to win.
Hope taught us the meaning of courage. I will confess to begging her to fight, to stay, to grow. She shocked and amazed me in her last few weeks. Every time I went to the doctor, I (on some level) expected to hear that she had died inside me. But instead she’d grow a few days (in a week) or my hormones would go up, or…in those last few days…she developed a heartbeat (far too slow, but still). She was a fighter. She fought and fought to stay as long as she could. She taught us about courage in her fight, and she taught us courage in that we had to tell her that if she needed to leave, she had our permission.
She taught the two atheists that there is something bigger out there. As much as I want to deny the existence of a God and as little use as I have for organized religion, the truth is that she proved to me that there are bigger things out there. It just doesn’t seem like coincidence that within hours of being told that she could leave if she had to…that she did. It feels like she was waiting for us to be ready to let her go…like she loved us too much to leave before we could handle it. And we loved her too much to force her to stay when she couldn’t.
Buddhists believe that a miscarriage is a soul that is close to achieving Nirvana-they must be loved once more, and then they can achieve Nirvana. For all that I deny religion and God, part of me desperately hopes thiere is truth to this–that Hope has found some kind of peace and happiness, especially as her greatest gift in some ways is that she paved the way for Emby, who is a source of peace and happiness for us.
Hope, you were perfect to me, and I will ALWAYS love you. You are my first child and I will ALWAYS miss you. Never think for a moment that because your father and I have gone on to have other children that you aren’t with us. When it is time your sister and any other future siblings WILL know about you.
You will not be forgotten.
****************************************************8
Some poems that gave me comfort in my grief are below….
Nobody Knew You
by Jan Cosby
Nobody knew you
“Sorry about the miscarriage dear, but you couldn’t have been very far along.”
…existed.
Nobody knew you
“It’s not as though you lost an actual person.”
…were real
Nobody knew you
“Well it probably wasn’t a viable fetus. It’s all for the best.”
…were perfect.
Nobody knew you
“You can always have another!”
…were unique.
Nobody knew you
“You already have a beautiful child. Be happy!”
…were loved for yourself.
Nobody knew you
…but us.
And we will always remember
…You.
*********************************
Little Footprints by Dorothy Ferguson
How very softly you tiptoed into my world.
Almost silently, only a moment you stayed.
But what an imprint your footprints have left upon my heart.
I found an interesting link today to Harper’s Magazine…not something I usually read, but with my interest in this whole peanut allergy thing and my concern that it’s the new thing to freak the fuck out over, I thought it was worth passing along.
Where is your data coming from?
The Food Allergy & Anaphylaxis Network takes a LOT of money from the people who make epi-pens. Gee, do you think they might have reason to exaggerate and skew stats for their own benefit?
Dearest Emby
As I write this, we have (at most) 6 weeks and 5 days left in our current journey together. That suddenly feels like very little time, and yet I never thought I’d get here. I was so scared of losing you, of finding out that something was wrong with you, that 40 weeks would last a lifetime. Instead, 40 weeks lasts….well….40 weeks.
Your 32nd week in utero started in DC and ended with sending Daddy to Canada on a business trip.
We started week 32 on our last day of visiting your cousins in DC. It’s hard to imagine that when Mommy and Daddy next see your cousin J he could be walking and saying his first words. Your cousin A seems like such a big girl, and Kindergarten seems practically ancient when compared to a brand new infant. I suppose it’s all about perspective–when I taught 12 year olds, the kindergarteners seemed so tiny and young.
The flight home was much less of a hassle than the one in had been. We returned our rental car (did I ever tell you that we managed to get a rental car with MA plates in VA?! how very funny that seemed to Daddy and I!) and made it through security with plenty of time to fly home on the plane we were supposed to be on. If you’ll remember, our flight to DC required a last second airline change as our flight was cancelled and that Mommy and Daddy barely made the gate in time to board the plane.
Mommy had a fairly low key week, tidying up around the house, sleeping, and catching up on things that needed to be done before Daddy went to Canada on business.
On Friday we had our ATU appointment as usual, but this week was a measurement week. I’m happy to say you were measuring in the 48th percentile (pretty much perfectly on target) and they think you weigh about 4 and a half pounds. I realize these guesstimates are innacurate, but I like to try and imagine what a 4.5 lb baby looks like–at which point I realized you actually FIT into the preemie clothes I see in Carters. That was a bit of a shock to my system. You were not only active during this appointment, but were so active, in fact, that they made we wait a bit longer than usual to make sure that they saw you enter a calm period because when you are active your heart rate increases. You continue to look great, sweetie. Keep up the good work!
On Saturday Mommy and Daddy had lunch with uncle M before Daddy and Uncle M went to work so that Uncle M could critique the presentation Daddy was giving in Canada. While they went over the presentation, Mommy went to the bakery to pick up the cake she’d ordered for Auntie A’s baby shower the next day.
I’m a bit ashamed to admit that when I saw they hadn’t quite done the cake I wanted, I had a meltdown in the store and began to cry because I was so upset. Mommy is usually quite a bit more stable–don’t worry, sweetie. Pregnancy just does a number on your hormones and sometimes something as simple as a screw up on a bakery cake can feel like the end of the world.
That evening Mommy and Daddy went out on a date to a special desserterie, where Mommy and Daddy both ate sinfully good molten chocolate cake. It was special for us to have a date before Daddy left, and without worrying about logistics involving you. You are incredibly wanted, but Mommy and Daddy are just starting to realize that you also make life a bit more complicated…in a good way.
By the time Daddy was finished packing, it was time for him to leave for the airport. Dada came and got him and Mommy went to take a 4 hour nap before she got up for Auntie A and Uncle J’s baby shower.
Auntie A made you baby clothes, which is just incredibly sweet and I can’t wait to see them on you. I’m so impressed by her ability to do stuff like that-there’s a lot you could learn from Auntie A that you can’t learn from Mommy, and I’m glad she and her baby will be part of your life.
After the shower Mommy and Daddy talked on the phone a few times and Mommy fell into an exhausted sleep once she knew Daddy had made it to Canada safely.
Only 47 more days!
Love ,
Mommy
I was lucky enough to be included in defining someday’s post “Breastfeeding Without Blankets Carnival” where she includes many women’s perspectives on Catherine’s (and their own) experience(s) being harassed while just trying to FEED THE CRYING BABY.
Most of my political vitrol to this point has been aimed at Sarah Palin. Mostly because John McCain has a public record spanning many years and I figured that most informed voters would be checking that record as opposed to believing the crap that the campaign was spouting.
Until we get to the money quote “The fundamentals of our economy are strong.” Said right after the Lehman Brothers collapse. You know, Lehman Brothers–survived the Depression, couldn’t survive the current economic crisis? Oh yeah, and AIG just got bailed out. And Fannie and Freddie Mac got nationalized?
I can understand how you can think the economy is strong when you’re married to a beer heiress and own more houses than you can count, but there are those of us who have lost the equivalent of a year of college tuition in the market since January alone. More specifically, there are people like my aunt, who was laid off and is about to run out of unemployment money. She’s been looking for a job every day since she was laid off and you know what? With all the jobs being lost in her area there isn’t so much as a McDonald’s job that isn’t being fought over by plenty of 30 and 40 somethings.
Of course, it’s also easy to see why you’d have your head in the sand. It’s what Bush has done for the past 8 years, and your voting record says you have voted along party lines more than 90% of the time during Bush’s presidency, so it’s pretty clear that you’re just signing us up for more of the same.
Let’s do something productive that could help our economy…like vote Obama into office.
If you’re taking all your facts from the candidates websites, you’re not informed. If you’re not watching the debates, you’re not informed. If you’re not reading up on their records, you’re not informed. This is an important election, people–GET FUCKING INFORMED.
Dear Emby
I’m 32 weeks and 1 day today. I’m a bit late on this, but we’ve had a busy couple of weeks.
Week 30
The major events of week 30 were that I helped Auntie A’s mom shop for her shower decorations and mailed out her invitations, went to Maine to visit your great-grandpa, convinced Daddy to go to the doctor to get his shoulder looked at, lost my mucus plug, Daddy and I attended a childbirth class, and that we had a birthday brunch with Grandma.
Auntie A’s mom needed a bit of help planning Auntie A’s baby shower. It was stressing out Auntie A, so I was happy to help. I was, however, a bit relieved when another location opened up for the shower, once I realized that the guest list was around 30ish people and my living room has trouble holding more than 15 or so people.
The trip to Maine was the first time in a long time that I’ve seen your Great-Grandpa. We’ve had a strained relationship ever since he promised to walk me down the aisle at my wedding and then changed his mind. It’s been hard for me to understand that he’s starting to get really old, and that some of what comes with that is loss of memory. That the loss of memory will affect our relationship. That I have to let it go, and just try to have the best relationship with him as is possible. Not to expect too much. And that’s hard, since he was always a strong person, a father figure, and this tall strong hero to me. It’s hard to realize that this man who I perceived as tall and strong is only a few inches taller than me.
Someday you’ll realize that your dad and I are human, and that realization is going to hurt. More, one day you’ll have to be the strong adult who takes care of us. I had to take responsibility for his life insurance policy and knowing what he wants to have done when he dies. I’m sorry that one day we’ll ask you to take that responsibility too. But it won’t be for a long time yet.
Daddy has had a sore shoulder for a while now (about a month) and I had to bully him to go to the doctor. I hope that you will be less difficult to get to a doctor when you hurt yourself.
Friday night I lost my mucus plug. That was disgusting. It looked like my vagina sneezed. Luckily, it turns out that losing your mucus plug has NO significance in and of itself. Apparently it grows back-another fun and weird pregnancy fact that no one talks about and is never mentioned in pregnancy books.
Childbirth class was scary. It convinced me that I’m getting an epidural. I practically had a panic attack during the natural childbirth video. I can’t wait to meet you, but I’m not particularly excited about how you’re coming out.
Finally, we had a birthday brunch with grandma. She was particulary touched that we gave her a card signed by you. Next year we’ll let you sign the card yourself…let’s see what you can do with a crayon at 9 months old (other than put it up your nose).
Week 31
During week 31, we spent 6 hours in L&D triage, had an ATU appointment, and went to Virginia to see your cousins.
The L&D triage experience was basically a confluence of a leaky vagina (gross, I know), cramps caused by pelvic displacement, and the loss of my mucus plug the previous Friday. It took 6 hours to confirm that I was not leaking amniotic fluid or having contractions. One of the biggest issues, however, young lady was that you were squirmy and we had trouble staying on your heartbeat. You should know that Daddy and I are bored with L&D triage visits (the 3 we had because of bleeding, the one because of the merry go round, and this one) and would like to not return until it’s time for the real deal.
The ATU appointment was nice. We got to see you practice breathing! The only thing that was boring was again…staying on your heartbeat. We did see you moving around…I think we’re in for an active wiggly baby.
The trip to DC was pretty wonderful. We saw your cousin A and your new cousin J. J is only 4 months old (he’ll be 6 months old when you’re born) and I got to hold him, feed him, and change him. Your Auntie K even let me practice putting him into his carseat, so at least I won’t be a complete amateur when it’s you. Just please dont’ try and freak me out the way your cousin J did when he started screaming the second I put him in (apparently he just hates it). A is almost 5 year old and we got to take her to Chuck E Cheese-she promised she’d teach you all about it once you’re old enough.
We also went to Alexandria and stumbled across an art festival. That’s where we picked up the painting of the butterfly that’s hanging in your room. Daddy also bought me a stretched canvas photo of a rose-I’m guessing it’s hanging in Mommy and Daddy’s room.
The final thing we did in Virginia was talk to your Auntie K and Uncle S about being your guardians, should anything happen to both of us. I hope that you’ll never need to take advantage of that, but we know that they would love you and take care of you if something ever did happen to us.
I know that’s a scary thing to end on, but I do remember when I was little worrying about what would happen to me if my Mom died, and I want to let you know that you will be loved and taken care of no matter what. But no one will ever love you as much as we do.
until next week
love
Mommy
During my OB visit on Friday, the most important topic of discussion was whether or not I could go to DC to visit family this past weekend after the L&D triage visit (long story short-they thought I might be in early labor-I wasn’t) and that day’s ATU visit. I could, which I’ll talk about in my very late letter to Emby for weeks 30 and 31 later today or tomorrow.
The second most important topic of discussion was birth control. I mentioned in an earlier post that I was struggling with deciding which method to use as I have had problems with certain types of bc in the past and am no longer thrilled with the idea of using condoms, however reliable they have proven after almost 12 years of sexual activity and no unplanned pregnancies. I had done my research on IUD’s, specifically Mirena and the copper IUD. I was leaning towards Mirena, but I’d read some conflicting stuff about whether or not breastfeeding mom’s should be using it (or any hormonal bc, for that matter) and I was concerned about the hormones as I don’t have a great history with hormonal bc.
A reader recommended the book “Taking Charge of your Fertility.” If you haven’t read it, I do recommend it and suggest you at least skim through it. Any woman, whether she’s interested in becoming pregnant or not, should have the information in the book. However, it is worth noting that it recommends “Fertility Awareness” which requires a LOT of work (charting your periods, your basal body temp, your cervical mucus) and is not necessarily right for every woman (especially those of us who are lazy) as opposed to artificial methods.
I’m very lucky in that my doctor’s approach to medicine is very straightforward, research based, and that she’s on top of stuff (in fact, is also a professor of Obstetrics at a top respected Med School). We talked about both options with no pressure from her to do anything. She’s a big fan of “here’s the actual science of what’s going on, backed by reputable research, do with it what you will.” She doesn’t mind that I go out and scour the interwebs because I don’t sit around insisting that WebMd or random site knows more than she does, and because I’m a conscientious consumer of Web-based information–ie that much of it is opinion and not Science.
In the end we’re going with Mirena. There’s no promises that I will be able to handle the hormones, but it’s more likely that I can as the dosage is much lower than in the pill. I like that it will go in and then other than checking for strings (which my GYN may have to do as I have an elongated vaginal canal and my cervix is almost impossible to reach) I don’t have to think about it before (a) 5 years are up or (b) I’m ready to start trying for #2.
The only thing I don’t like about Mirena is that I can’t get it at the 6 week visit. They’ve found that insertion just doesn’t work successfully for most women in their practice, so they have women come back at 10 weeks post partum for insertion. I grumbled about waiting an extra 4 weeks, but my OB’s comment was “there’s lots of other stuff you can do that’s fun but not intercourse.” I have to love an OB who can say that as opposed to telling us just to chill the fuck out already-don’t we know we’ll be too tired for sex?!
But Mirena is many weeks away. Emby, however, is 7 weeks and 6 days (55 days to be exact) at MOST away. EEP.
I’m a big fan of Her Bad Mother’s blog, and although I’ve been a bit preoccupied this week, what with the 6 hours in Labor and Delivery Triage (nothing was wrong) and packing for a trip that I hadn’t caught up with her in about as long. Which is why my jaw dropped to read this entry.
For those of you who don’t click links, allow me to summarize.
HBM was flying back home with her infant son on WestJet and was quietly nursing him when a flight attendant got involved….
When she approached me in my seat near the back of the plane, blanket in hand, I ignored her. Jasper was tucked in at my breast, wrapped in his own blanket, his head pressed against the white half-moon of flesh that was barely visible beneath him. His head was damp from the stream of tears that had been running down my cheeks from the moment of our departure, the tears that I’d held back while saying my goodbyes. I bent my head over his, shielding my face, my breast, my baby, my tears from view with the veil of my hair. I didn’t even look up when she spoke to me.
Excuse me, perhaps you’d like to cover up with a blanket?
I don’t answer.
I brought a blanket for you.
She crouches slightly, bending closer. I gather my voice. I’m afraid that it will crack.
I’m fine, thank you.
She stands up, still holding the blanket in front of me.
Well. Perhaps I’ll leave it with you?
I don’t answer.
She reaches across me, across Jasper, and drops the blanket on the empty seat beside me. If you need help with it, let me know.
Thank you, I say, my jaw clenched, my throat closed. I am trying to not cry anymore than I already am.
Some women are more comfortable nursing with a blanket. I can’t see her, my head bent as it is, but I imagine that she stiffens defensively.
My tears are getting hot. I swallow my anger.
Thank you.And then she walked away, and I kept my head bent over my baby for as long as he nursed and as long as he slept and until the tension in the back of my neck became too much to bear.
Let me state for the record that there are laws protecting a breastfeeding mother’s rights in Canada, including her right to nurse without harassment. And for anyone who doesn’t think that was harassment—what would you call it if I stood next to you and kept poking you repeatedly when you clearly wanted to be left alone?????
I have gone on the record in the past as being annoyed and frustrated with lactavists and breastfeeding nazis…however, I don’t see my position on this as antithetical to that. I hate people who say breastfeeding is the ONLY option and you’re a horrible terrible selfish mommy to bottle feed and your child will grow up to be something less than what they could’ve been you awful awful awful person.
However, breastfeeding in public is something I unequivicably support. Breasts are not dirty…they are functional, and their job is to feed a hungry baby…it’s not my problem that they’ve been fetishized into sexual objects of lust to the point where their mere presence is sexual, regardless of whether they’re sitting quietly in my bra under a button up shirt, bound in tightly so I can exercise without making them hurt, or subtly appearing to feed my daughter.
Breastfeeding on a plane is a smart decision. Babies have no idea what’s going on with the changes in cabin pressure. We can tell kids and adults to yawn in order to force their ears to pop. Exactly how do you propose to explain this to a preverbal infant? The suck reflex pops their ears for them. And keeps their mouths busy and occupied with something other than screaming at the top of their lungs.
As for the blanket…FUCK THE BLANKET.
If I wanted a blanket, I’d bring my own, as would any woman who prefers to cover up.
I have no desire to cover up. I don’t eat sitting under a tent with my food on the outside of the tent–why should my kid? I’m not ashamed of my breasts. I don’t think they’re dirty. If you do, that’s not my problem any more than it’s my problem that you think I’m going to hell because I don’t believe in your God, your politics or your parenting philosophies. Deal with it. No one is forcing you to watch.
WestJet needs to hear about this, and while their current response is a form letter citing the wrong incident, I’m a big fan of harassing the harasser.
You can harass them by contacting Gillian Bentley, Media Relations, e-mail: gbentley@westjet.com.
Better yet, hit them where it hurts and fly another carrier.
Let’s make it clear that we know WestJet hates breastfeeding moms and until they change their policy, we’re going to give our money to other carriers.
Usually the idea of a class ennervates me. I adore academia and in a perfect world, I would spend my days racking up PhD after PhD…and it’s part of why I became a teacher. Learning for learning’s sake is wonderful.
But sometimes you have to learn about things part of you would rather not know…
Like childbirth.
Sure, I want to know what means it’s time to go to the hospital (beyond the rule of 1-5-1), but I’m just not sure I want to know much else. I’ve already had a consult with the anethesiologist, so I understand how the epidural will work and what would happen if instead I get a Csection. I’ve listened carefully to the risks, made my decision and signed off on my consent form. I’ve toured the hospital so I’ve seen where I’ll be up close and personally and gotten the full patter about what happens, when and where.
The class descriptions reads…
This comprehensive childbirth class covers all aspects of pregnancy, labor, birth and postpartum including: the anatomy and physiology of late pregnancy, the labor and birth process, signs and stages of labor, options for coping and pain management, common complications and promoting positive communication with your care-giver. We will help prepare you for all aspects of birth from knowing when to leave for the hospital or birth center to taking care of yourself after birth. This class provides some information on natural coping methods such as relaxation, breathing and massage (although not as much as the natural childbirth class), as well as information about pain medication and epidural anesthesia. All participants will receive a detailed information packet and view a birthing video. We encourage participation by your partner or support person.
Lots of useful stuff, no?
However, I’ve watched some childbirth videos online and they make me a bit queasy. I don’t know that it’s husband we have to worry about fainting.
I also am dreading all the breathing and “natural” childbirth crap as I refuse to practice panting in public without compensation (money, shoes, a pony). I can barely keep a straight face in a traditional yoga class, people. What am I going to do when I’m told that breathing will make the pain go away as effectively as the lovely Demerol in my IV? I fear that I will actually laugh out loud and flunk my childbirth class. Having husband there will NOT actually help me, as he is equally snarky and I just know this will end badly.
