Courage and determination… and curiosity and consumerism…




It has been nearly 28 weeks since this seed of a baby was planted and so that means that any time from 9 weeks from now (and hopefully not earlier though that’s possible too) I will go into labour. You may think I’m crazy but I am feeling pretty good about birth. I guess having not been through it yet, it’s fine for me to think that, but I’m hoping to still think it even after giving birth.

Perhaps I am stupid and naïve, but I am really beginning to think that if I believe I can do this, and that God has designed me in such a way that I can do this, then I can. Some of the really helpful books that I’ve read have been Janet Balaskas’ New Active Birth: A concise guide to natural childbirth, Sheila Kitzinger’s Rediscovering Birth and Lakshmi Bertram’s Choosing Waterbirth: Reclaiming the Sacred Power of Birth. All of these authors have really encouraged me by clearly stating their belief, that they support with significant research and personal experience, that the female body is perfectly designed to give birth and that it is entirely possible, and even beneficial, to give birth without any medical intervention at all.

So I’ve chosen to have my baby with the midwives in the Birth Centre at St George Public Hospital and elected not to have a private obstetrician. The birth centre at St George is right next to the labour ward which I find to be helpful – should I require more complex medical assistance, it will all be right there for me. I’m aware that a number of women have complications in their birth experiences, but after having read these books, and completed one of my birth courses, I really believe that it is only the minority of women who actually have complicated births that require medical assistance and that many of these complications are caused or increased by medical interventions that are chosen by the pregnant woman to aid her in pain relief. If I choose not to have “minor” pain relief (and that’s very much the path that I’ve set myself on with the decisions that I’ve made so far) such as gas or pethadine, then I am less likely to need to graduate to something like an epidural, and if I don’t have an epidural, then it will be less likely that I will need a vacuum or forceps delivery, less likely that I will tear or need an episiotomy and less likely that I will need a caesarean section. I don’t want to think about giving birth to my baby as “day surgery” and I was particularly disturbed by the phrase my friend chose to use the other day when she announced that a friend of hers had had her baby “surgically removed” that morning. But that’s kind of the dichotomy, isn’t it? I can give birth to my baby, or I can engage a doctor to deliver my baby on my behalf. In the first instance, I am the active participant but in the other, I am merely the passive recipient of expensive, and quite major, medical intervention. (See, Janet Balaskas? I’m a convert!) It's also thanks to the encouragement of friends, both those who've given birth, and those who are yet to - Thanks Bill, Rach, Sarah, Bec, Jessica, Natalie, Rhonda and Emma for making me think I can do this! Oh, and Jon - you won't get to give birth ever but I'm confident that you'll be a great cheerleader for me while I do!

I guess the question is, can I handle the pain? Well, I’m not exactly a tough girl. I have always, prior to pregnancy, appreciated the availability of Panadine for headaches and the like, but that said, giving birth is not like a headache. You cure the pain of giving birth by getting the baby out! It will be interesting, anyway. I hope that in three or so months time once I’ve had the baby, if I have any time or inclination to post to this blog, I’ll be telling you about how wonderful my birth experience was. We’ll see, eh?

A related thought that is often on my mind is this: what on earth is it that is moving around just under my skin? Jon assures me that it is an Anglo and there’s very little arguing with that. We didn’t find out if it is a boy or a girl, and while I’m really happy that I don’t know, I am REALLY curious. I’m not very good with surprises. If Jon knew what gender the baby was, I’d be hassling him every second of the day until he told me. He’s learnt from his mistakes. He can never come home in the days/weeks before my birthday and say “I bought your birthday present today” without being prepared to hand it over within a few minutes. In the same way I can’t buy him a gift before the occasion and then wait for the actual occasion to present it. I get too excited and I want to see what he thinks straight away! So it was a moment of uncharacteristic self-control that allowed me to refuse the ultrasound operator’s offer to know what the sex was – and now it leads to a possible three whole months, maybe more, of complete suspense. It’s kind of fun suspense though. And I’m glad I don’t know. No disrespect to the finder-outerers – I was very nearly one of you – but I think you’re kind of weird. And I guess that you’re stuck with lots of pink or blue stuff. Our baby will look very cool – so far everything is red or green or coffee-coloured or white. Though I guess unless it looks very obviously masculine or feminine, no one will be able to tell whether it’s a boy or a girl – just like now!!!

Here’s another question – in a world where people seem to be showering baby gifts on me, am I still allowed to buy things for the baby myself? Or is that stupid? I have so far concluded that buying things myself is stupid… We’ll see how long my self-control lasts – there are many, many CUTE but also RIDICULOUSLY over-priced baby things out there. My beautiful work colleagues showered me with totally awesome gifts on the weekend and I feel very spoilt as a consequence (hope you like the photos - this is just a small sample from the top of the pile - thanks Sarah and Jessica, thanks Sandra, thanks Naomi, thanks Mum!). This baby is going to look very awesome. Or at least its clothes will look awesome. How awesome it will actually look will be determined by the genetic milkshake that is in the process of solidifying itself in my womb. Curiouser and curiouser…

Oh, and Taylor Mali is one of my favourite poets. The baby either loves him or hates him. Or is completely indifferent to him but jigged about in there the whole time I was listening to him on youtube today. Though I guess the baby is jigging about now to the sound of James Taylor and me typing. Perhaps s/he is just easily entertained. Like its mother…