Ben and I attended the labor and delivery class at the hospital this weekend. I had been dreading this day ever since 5th grade when I saw a birth video in health class and decided then and there that I would never endure such an awful experience. Over the past 30 years or so I had managed to avoid another such viewing and, thanks to denial, gradually became "OK" over the past few months with the idea of giving birth. I knew that this labor and delivery class was going to set me back. That I would be exposed to images and sounds that would send me back to my OB begging to be made unconscious as she pulled the bundle from my uterus any way she chose (Yes, I'm a feminist - I just believe that women should have choices about how actively they want to participate - or not - in baby birthing). The fact that the class was called "Great Expectations" only made me angry and resentful of society imposing maternal standards on my emotions - I had no great expectations about going through labor and delivery. Rather , it was my worst nightmare. Well, the day I had been dreading finally did come and, not only did I survive, I actually felt so much better afterward. The outcome of this process (a little baby!) finally felt very real and exciting, seeing the hospital and talking with the nurses made me feel comfortable that I would be in good hands, and learning about pain management options was a relief. Only one image sent me running for reassurance from my OB that this kid, despite how strong its kicks feel, will not be able to kick its way out of my body.
