Friday, June 30, 2006


I'm the girl who lept out of the hot air balloon before takeoff, too scary. I am the 'hiker' who wouldn't cross the river in the cable car, too high. I'm the sort who would rather not run after anything, too much exertion, thanks.

I am no superstar. 'Cept when it came to birthin' baby #1. When we went to pre-natal classes -- what the Junipers say about those 15 hours is true -- I couldn't have cared less about natural childbirth. But the classmates and course leader sure did. We were so out of it. Our course was a two day deal and I remember, everyone had a birth plan. At the end of day one I said to p-man, "You, me and the cats, let's stay home as long as we can. That's our birthplan??" Yep. Well it worked. Amazingly.

While there was a brief window where p-man was asked about a contraction timing and was instead watching TV ... thus I screamed from the bedroom "You are the worst birth partner ever!"... He was a very good birth partner actually at the time -- and, after. I know that many marriages have lustrous moments of unbridled gorgeousness at weddings or through dancing and stuff, our shining moment was the delivery of the Girl Friday. I cannot think of any time of greater closeness in our relationship. I cannot pinpoint any other window where I felt the rush of adoration, support and pride of my spouse like the day we got her in our arms and for those weeks after when he would tell the story.

I believe labour is so apt for my performance birth day. Arrival of our baby was the time at which I was most hard at work in my life (no matter what I thought of my swollen feet all those weeks earlier.) I killed in there. And, I was rated a SUPERSTAR! by my husband. But bear in mind...

I remember it all quite choppily. The night after the birth, sometime after the 'sushi and gin' delivery, I said to papa-man.. so tell me, what happened? He tells it very well and so spritely as to be completely uncharacteristic. For those who have been concerned by the lightening of his tones in the last few weeks, wonder no more why. The time is near. We are in our 39th week and he's morphing into that birth junkie all mushy and sweet; transfixed on the thrill of his family growing ... knowing another bundle of unconditional love is about to fall into his hands. No pressure, eh?

So wish me luck as the time draws me in. I do hope we can have another unmedicated and uncomplicated birth. And, I'll say unabashedly not just for the sake of the baby but for the chance to repeat the closeness of mother and dad in bringing out baby.


Blogger Crunchy Carpets said...

LOL! Birth plans! Yeah..we almost got kicked out of our birthing classes....we sniggered too much.

Hubby is my hero because of birth no. 1.

He showed his true colours then. When he was terrified that he was going to lose either one of us.

No. 2 was a lot easier birth wise and so I wish you the same ease for your second coming.

P-man will still be ready for action no matter what...some of the men out there seem to live for this stuff....we are lucky we have two of them!

Good luck and keep those feet elevated.

9:26 a.m.  
Blogger Mary P. said...

Tick, tick, tick, tick...

I hope it goes really well. Odds are in your favour, with birth #1 going so smoothly.

I used to teach prenatal classes (is anyone surprised?). 'Birth plans' would be better termed 'wish lists', or 'philosophy of delivery', because there are only a limited number of things that are truly within your control. The implication that you can "plan" your birth is indeed snigger-worthy.

Thinking of you this week!

1:14 p.m.  
Blogger Granny said...

Chances are good if you had no problems first time around.

Best wishes.

8:39 p.m.  
Blogger Kara said...

Birth plan. That's funny. I thought I'd want lots of TLC- but I actually wanted everyone to shut up and leave me alone.

In the end- how the baby makes it outta there matters less than what happens afterward.

Sending love and luck for the big arrival!!

12:41 p.m.  
Blogger stefanierj said...

I'm finally catching up, so I'm sad to see the Nuthatch and I won't share a natal day, but I applaud your sunny attitude about the late arrival.

8:25 p.m.  

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