Last night reality hit me like a ton of bricks. At some point, this baby inside me is going to come out. And it is going to hurt. Really, really bad.
We had our birthing class last night and practiced a series of relaxation techniques, which I LOVE. There is nothing better than lying sprawled out on a sleeping bag while my husband speaks softly in my ear and massages my entire body. It’s glorious, really. Afterwards, however, we watched a video that completely undid everything my husband and I accomplished during relaxing time.
Our lesson for the night was on second stage labor, which might also be appropriately called “get that bloody baby out of me” stage. The book says it “feels sort of like having a huge bowel movement,” which my husband found hilarious (“why wouldn’t they just say ‘large?’ why the need to write ‘huge?'” he kept saying). I felt pretty confident while we discussed the different phases of labor and how to deal with the pain of each transition, contraction, etc… that is, until we watched it on the television.
Now, I have this disease that I inherited from my father’s side of the family. It’s a terrible disease really – involving uncontrollable laughter at completely inappropriate moments. If you get injured in front of me, chances are, I will laugh at you – even though I feel nothing but compassion for you. It’s why I need a Savior… the disease is that bad.
The point of the video last night was to show us how this poor woman used the different relaxation techniques during labor, but as JD pointed out later, anyone who agrees to have their entire labor videotaped is going to be slightly nuts. The sweet couple was a Christian couple, which I should have been thrilled at, but instead, all I could do was laugh hysterically at the Amy Grant song in the background and all their comments about how God is blessing them so abundantly through natural childbirth. The kicker was when their MINISTER came to give them support WHILE SHE WAS PUSHING!!!! Now, I love my pastor, but there is no way he is going to come in while my crotch is fully exposed and a bloody head is coming out. Sorry Pastor Brad. It didn’t help that the movie was made when I was born, so the woman had a hairstyle that looked exactly like my mother’s when she had me.
We all sat on our blankets, chewing on healthy muffins, when suddenly loud moans exploded on the screen and something that must have been a monster appeared in full view. I choked on my muffin. And had to cover my entire face because I WAS LAUGHING SO HARD THAT TEARS CAME OUT OF MY EYES!!!! Our good friends and volunteer leaders for the junior high group are taking the class with us, and kept looking at me – partly out of amusement, but partly because I think they couldn’t believe how incredibly immature I was acting. It didn’t help that my husband, whose favorite topic is POOP was watching the screen diligently so as to know how to coach me well.
Moments later, laughter turned to sheer horror and I was crying for a different reason, silently praying “Lord don’t let that happen to me, oh please don’t let that happen to me.” I couldn’t take the blanket away from my face the entire time, and wasn’t at all comforted when that screaming baby was placed in the mother’s arms. I’m convinced something is wrong with me… and also convinced that had I seen that video years earlier, I would have made a vow of celibacy.
For real… how do women do it… I don’t even know.