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I floss daily, brush after every meal, and trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries.

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Sunday, December 31, 2006

Four Years Ago Tonight...


I began having contractions. Luckily for hugely pregnant me, our across-the-hall neighbors Sanjay and Janna were having a New Year's Eve party, so I could just waddle over in my flip flops. I sat and ate some insanely good Indian rice pudding and talked with a gathering crowd of revelers about... guess what? Birth. Labor and delivery. What everyone wants to talk to the hugely pregnant woman about.

"Have you decided what kind of birth you want? Will you take the drugs?"
"Well, I can't predict how it will go, and I'm not ruling anything out, but I'd like to try to have a natural birth as much as possible. That's my goal, as few interventions as possible."
"Yeah my sister totally wanted a natural birth, but then [details] and [complications] and [harrowing turns of events], and then after all that she ended up with a C-section anyway."

It seems like I had at least six conversations that went more or less like this, all the while having what I later realized were relatively mild contractions every twenty minutes or so. All the stories of difficult labors and jettisoned birth-plans pissed my Old Man off to an extreme degree, but for some reason, I was completely unfazed. I was just excited to get started, and hopeful that things would go well.

My son O. was born on January fourth, and my contractions didn't cease in the interim. Stay tuned for the whole nine (ten, fifteen, twenty) yards.

2 Comments:

Blogger Esereth said...

See, I get (got?) pissed off at harrowing birth stories. But that's because I was imagining I sensed a bit of gloating from the women who told them. I'm not sure I feel that way anymore, now that I have a story of my own. In fact, I desperately want to hear yours. I love your multi-installment stories.

7:08 PM  
Blogger E. said...

Someone's own personal birth story would have affected me more, I think. The people I was talking to at this particular party were mostly grad students and all childless (which made it more rude - they weren't even their own scary stories!)

You'll be hearing mine soon. And I want to hear yours, too. (No pressure!) If you haven't already started taking notes, do it when you get a chance. I think it took me about two weeks of daily writing (when I could snatch a minute during O's newborn napping) to write down all the details of my story in my journal.

9:23 PM  

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