Developing a Birthing Plan

Tons of people have told me I'm crazy and I'm sure tons more will tell me before I'm done, but I want a natural birth. And yes, that means no drugs. We've researched all our options, read all the books, toured all the hospitals and hired a doula (who is also teaching our birthing classes starting in Oct.). I don't know how I could be more prepared for it.

I've been having some pretty interesting anxiety dreams lately, but last nights was pretty telling. I had nightmares all night of long, miserable, endless flights. If you read my post about flying home a few weeks ago, you know that it was beyond awful - I had drama coming out both ends, a sinus issue and my feet and one hand got so swollen I was terrified. I stood through most of the flight.

I guess because I was a psych major, I like to pick apart my dreams. And as I was thinking about this one (I was on a plane and the only person on the plane who spoke english and I had awful seats and there was no room and it was supposed to be a 14 hour flight) it hit me - the plane is the hospital and the flight is the birth. I'm not delusional, and just because I want a natural birth doesn't mean that I'm planning on having very little pain and a short labor. I know it will be hard, I know it will be work, I know it will hurt, but I also know that my body will be doing something that it was made to do. But this dream gave me a new way to explain that to other people...

Say you have this 14 hour flight to some beautiful tropical island. You know it's going to be cramped and miserable and that you'll get sick and feel awful, but the tickets were expensive and are non refundable and you WANT to go. So you prepare yourself in any way you can. And then someone offers you some medication. It will make you sleep through much of the flight and although you'll still be plenty uncomfortable, you'll be able to relax better. Sounds great, right? Well, there's also a great chance that this miracle medication will make you sick once you land. So sick, in fact, that you'll miss the whole beginning of your vacation being in a fog. And you can have side effects too, although they're rare. You might have a horrific headache for days or temporary paralysis...and some other things we'll just not talk about. (Of course, this says nothing for how bad all this is for the baby).

So the way I see it, I'd rather have a miserable, long, uncomfortable, painful flight and know that at the end of it all, I'll be able to walk off the plane unassisted and enjoy a little bit of paradise as I get to know this new person in my life.

Does this mean I have to grow up?

So I was talking to my friend John today and laughing about some of the silly things I did in college and I realized...this is it, I think I finally have to grow up! So you finish college and you lose the "but I was in college" excuse. Then you move into your own place and feel a little more adult, but you still aren't really grown up and can pretend you're still in college. Then you get married. That's a big one, but if you do it right, you get a playmate and you can both still refuse to grow up completely. Then you buy a house. Sure someone has to mow the lawn and do the laundry, but once that's done you're free to play video games until your hands cramp up so bad you can't move your fingers. Then you have a baby...and I'm starting to feel like that has to be where it all ends.

From now on, every decision I make not only affects me and my life, but also the life of this innocent little person who I am now COMPLETELY responsible for. That's an awfully scary thought. I've always had a difficult time with the concept of being defined by my relationships with others - most notably when I got married. It was a sad sad day when I changed my last name, although I know it made the most sense and I did it for all the right reasons. It's still a challenge for me to understand that I can change my last name, which is so deeply a part of my identity, and that I can become someone's partner in life and that it's ok for me to be defined as such and that doing that doesn't take away from who I am but only adds to it. Now, being defined as someone's mother is still something I'm grappling with. Although Brooks assures me that we'll still have time to play video games :)

Photoshopping a Nursery

We decided that we didn't want any characters in the nursery. Nothing with a face since I think that's creepy. So the question became what to do with the walls? I saw some cool picture frames and got an idea. It's a psychological fact that babies LOVE to see other babies, and since we're so far from family, I decided to collect baby pics of our parents and grandparents and siblings and old ancestors etc. I bought a bunch of craft frames and I'm working on decorating each one so that they add some flavor to the room. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to try and hang them with ribbons or just hang them. When I was telling my Uncle Tom my idea, he suggested that I handcolor the photos so that they all look uniform and also have a bit of a younger appeal to them. I did and it's working great! Here's a sample - my mother's mother. The one on the left is the original and obviously the one on the right is the one I handcolored. They're all turning out pretty cool too!
Meanwhile, I got wayyy too much enjoyment out of a story on Defamer today detailing how Fergie of the Black Eyed Peas PEED herself at the San Diego show last weekend. My first thought was that maybe that Duhmel dude got her all knocked up and she couldn't help herself. Too funny. Link to Defamer at right, scroll down the page for the story.

Confessions of Pregnant Driver

Ok, so I must start this post by saying that 1) I have always prided myself on being a GOOD example of a woman driver and 2) I have always opposed any medicalization of pregnancy that treats the pregnant woman as if she has some sort of ailment or disease. That said, pregnancy has made me a BAD driver. REALLY BAD. When I first noticed that the part of my brain that controls driving skills to mush, I was horrified. I did something stupid in traffic and actually rolled down my window and waved and hollered "oops". It was aful, an out of body experience where I was watching myself be that stupid woman everyone shakes their head and scowls at.

That said, something in my pregnant temper (more on that later) has switched over this week and I've somehow learned to embrace my pregnant driving. Today I cut someone off on purpose. And I LIKED it! When she pulled up next to me to yell, I yelled right back, flipped the bird and drove away laughing like the wicked witch of the west. Maybe it's because I know that I'll be driving like a granny with a baby in the back pretty soon, but it felt good.

So the moral of the story is, if you see a giant blue car piloted by someone who looks like they have no business being on the road, GET OUT OF MY WAY! Because I'm going to enjoy driving for the next few months...

Alone Time & The Pregnant Glow

Brooks was in Denver on business last night, so I had the house to myself. I don't think you ever grow out of that initial rush you get when you realize you are going to have the whole house to yourself for a whole night - then again, maybe it's still a thing for me since my parents would have missed a meeting with the Pope if it meant I'd have the house to myself for a night. So after that inital rush, it always sets in that going to bed alone sucks. I think I slept maybe an hour or two at most. Keeping my eyes open at work today has been quite taxing. But as I was watching TV and trying to soothe myself to sleep (yes that IS Ron Perlman as the Lawsayer in The Island of Dr. Moreaux) and Piglet was a wiggly worm in my belly, I realized that this could very well be the last time I have the whole house to myself overnight - ever. It was a very very odd feeling.

And if one more person tells me I'm glowing, I'm going to take my greasy face and rub it against theirs and point out that now they're "glowing" too! That's right folks, nasty, greasy skin is NOT glowing! You don't tell someone who just finished a marathon that they're glowing. No you say that they're sweaty. So let's get it right. If you'd like to comment on my skin, you're more than welcome to complement how I really am looking "oily" with this pregnancy. And while I'm at it, why do people have such a hard time seeing the nutritional value of the milkshake. It's milk people! Calcium, Dairy, Good Protein, Dammit!!