There are two things that scare me about having a baby.
1. Having a c-section, mostly because of the whole moving and packing and moving and unpacking business that we're in right now. Knowing I would be completely useless is an awful thought during this time. At least if I have a normal birth I can painfully waddle around and put away dishes at an incredibly slow pace.
2. and/or not having a vagina left after giving birth.
Lets put it this way, one of the main things I do to relax is get in some form of water. If I have a headache, I lay in the shower, cover my face and let the steam do its job. My back hurts, I get in the tub and soak. My legs hurt from being pregnant, I go float around in the pool. Ideally, I wanted one of those crazy hippie labors where I could be all mother earthly and in the water and squirt out a kid. John said that after watching a water birth on TV that it's horrible and disgusting and no one should want to sit in a tub with poop and a placenta. My mom said I need a 'real' doctor and not some Kareem Paula Abdoula helping me give birth in a kiddie pool in the living room of our apartment.
Anyways, insurance isn't a fan of the "hippie dippie" method and I'm giving birth at a hospital, where I'm going to assume there are no kiddie pools, but secretly I'm keeping my fingers crossed. If anything I know my room will have a shower and I'm packing extra fluffy BLACK towels in my hospital bag. I'm not letting anything stain my nice white towels from home. So hopefully I'll at least be able to hang out in there for a hot minute.
I figured the water thing would help me keep my muscles relaxed and keep me comfortable and all of that good stuff. Then I thought back to a long while ago. My parents were out with some of their friends after their adult bowling league and my mom accidentally butt dialed me. They were talking about childbirth and having an episiotomy (delightful conversation to have over burritos and margaritas, I know.)
Up until now I never thought about those kinds of things before. In the back of my head I knew what it was but I seriously thought it was a giant cut that just made one giant GIANT GIANT gaping hole down yonder. So a while ago I looked it all up. Thank god that's not the case...but bad things can happen and you could end up with a giant giant hole down there. Then I thought about "what happens if that happens and you have to poop?" I must prevent my lady area from turning into the Grand Canyon.
That led me finding out about this thing called perineal massage.
When the instructions start out with "make sure your nails are smooth" you know you're in for a treat. The next part said you can do it yourself or have your partner help you. Apparently I'm supposed to then be okay with throwing some olive oil down there and going at it. (All I need is some vinegar and we could make a salad dressing!) All I can imagine at this point is John in his chef coat, sitting at the end of the bed with a bottle of vegetable oil in one of those squirt bottles they use at Subway. Then you're supposed to hook your thumbs UP THERE and stretch. All I could think of was the end of Braveheart and I just couldn't do it anymore.
After being completely traumatized by the mental images I conjured up, I'm pretty much just crossing my fingers and hoping for the best on this one. This baby hasn't really tortured me at all and I'm hoping she continues to bring her A game for labor and delivery. She can cry, scream, projectile vomit, poop out the top of her onesie once she gets here, but I hope she's gentle on my lady bits...and then I hope I'm alseep for those other things..well at least the poop part. John should have to get to deal with something gross.
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