You might think that if you wait till you're 30 to have a baby, you'd know everything and sail through the process. Turns out, there are about 300 things so far that have surprised the hell out of me, with new items added to the list every day. In retrospect, this shouldn't be all that hard to believe, since really neither the hubby nor I have been around actual babies since...well...maybe when my 21 year old brother was an infant. And I was...9. Yeah, so I should have expected the confusion...but I was blinded by my ignorance.
Luckily now-a-days we're blessed to have "all the answers" at the tip of our fingers. Strange symptom? GOOGLE IT. And you will generally always find out that your worst fears are confirmed, and both you and your baby will die.
And then your doctor will tell you to knock it off, and stay off the internet. Which works for about a week.
BUT, where else would I have learned about episiotomy, vaginal tearing, afterbirth, and placenta smoothies? Because Lord knows polite Lutherans never talked about such things. But mommybloggers do. A LOT. Even ones I like. (BTW, blogger does not know how to spell episiotomy, but I'm imploring you, don't plug it in your search bar just to check the spelling like I did - you can't unsee the diagrams and pictures that come flying up. Damn speedy Google).
One day I did sit down and read the final chapters of the two baby books we've been sort of relying on, which was a lot like reading The Monster at the End of This Book. (Internet, whatever damage you have done to my psyche by convincing me I am always dying is redeemed by having this book online at my fingertips). Anyways, I knew I shouldn't keep turning each page, but I did anyways. And at some point the hubby came home to find me in a pile of tissues sobbing about ultimate impending destruction of my whoo-ha and life as I know it.
Talk about a monster at the end of the book...
My original strategy of denying any knowledge of the birth process was CLEARLY the way to go. Were I to do it over again, I'd argue fervently (with myself) to assume magical fairies just hand me a baby at the end of the story, which truly is not any more strange and unbelievable than what "really" happens, but definitely sounds more pleasant. And by the time I were to realize that's not really how the gig would go down, it would be too late to lament it anyways.
Instead, I'm terrified. And now, as we're closing down on "V-Day" I need to make a birth plan. And rather than focusing on "important" stuff which makes me rock back and forth catatonic (drugs? natural? interventions? huh?), I'm filling out the "easy" parts first.
Except I don't really get them either.
So, mommies and others, explain to me why I need "soothing music" for this endeavor? Once again my lack of experience and understanding is clearly showing through, because to me, this seems counter-intuitive. Wouldn't I want stadium rock, like a workout playlist (or what my never-been-in-a-gym-self assumes a workout playlist to consist of)? I look at labor as a horrific athletic endeavor - you use muscles, endure pain, push your limits, and probably collapse in a puddle of your own bodily fluids...wouldn't fast, inspiring, angry music be better for that? Wouldn't I feel better focusing on the pounding beat of Green Day and Rancid than people counting and telling me when to breathe over the soft (annoying) sounds of Enya?
And help me build my playlist.
Because I refuse to acknowledge most of the rest of the decisions I have to make for my birth plan :)