While the rest of the country was watching the Giants pull off an amazing victory in the Superbowl last night, DH and I were at our childbirth class watching a video of three women delivering babies.
I didn't think so.
The good news is that I didn't pass out during the movie, and it seemed to be really helpful to DH to learn more about what to expect. But as I delve into the details of childbirth, one word that keeps sticking in my mind is "natural." Laboring and giving birth is a natural process. Natural deliveries are amazing. Breastfeeding is natural. The whole thing seems as natural to me as hunting wooly mammoths, gathering berries in the forest, and driving a Japanese car in Detroit.
I don't mean to step into controversy here. I know quite a heated debate can ensue between women favoring a more "natural" process and those who schedule medically unnecessary c-sections. It's not my place to judge someone else's choice, I'm simply speaking for myself that I have yet to be swept into the primitive appeal of this. I have much respect for women who do unmedicated births and home deliveries. If that's the experience your heart longs for, then by all means go for it. But no woman has anything to prove to me. As far as I'm concerned, reducing my pain and discomfort as much as possible while ensuring a healthy baby is what my heart longs for. In fact, I asked the anethesiologist we met at the hospital last night if it was too early for the epidural. (Apparently, yes it is.)
Does my failure to "get it" have something to do with the creation of dear Bean? It's possible. I'm fairly certain Mother Nature did not intend for conception to occur with the aid of a smiling doc in a white lab coat, a cheering section of nurses, and a glorified turkey baster. But then again, I can't speak for Mother Nature, so I'm not sure. Many couples use the aid of cheap alcohol, too, and those conceptions are generally considered natural.
I know I'm not alone in my fear of impending birth -- far from it. During a bathroom break last night, one of my preggo classmates (all of age 19, I'm guessing) asked me with wide eyes, "You are getting really close. Aren't you scared?" As my mom would say, CHA. But despite the part of me that's wondering if it's too late to back out of this, I'm curious to see if and how my view changes after I experience birth from the mom's perspective this time. Who knows, maybe I'll be so moved by nature's gift that I'll use organic cloth diapers and puree my own baby food (from home-grown veggies, of course). I doubt it, but I'll let you know.
Moving on to lighter topics, thanks for all the tips and advice on Bean's layette. DH and I went shopping over the weekend, and our little guy is now the proud owner of several pairs of pants. Teeny tiny pants that he'll wear 4 times and that cost as much as any pair DH and I own -- but at least his legs won't be cold. We still haven't resolved the mismatching socks problem, but one step at a time. (No pun intended, ha ha ha.) Oh, and as we were checking out at Old Navy, the young clerk smiled at me. "Any day now?" she asked, glancing at my tummy. "Still a month left," I responded. "Really? My sister is due to go any minute, and you are bigger than she is," she observed. Well, your sister must be ridiculously small then, mustn't she?
We also met with and selected a pediatrician on Friday, which was a big relief. This week we are focused on getting and assembling Bean's furniture, meeting with the OB tomorrow (she'll check to see if I am dialating and effacing... and if I am, I'll probably faint), and having our final ultrasound on Thursday to estimate his weight and check what position he's in. It's amazing how quickly everything is progressing. I am now exactly four weeks from my due date... less than one month. Gasp.