A Birth Plan that Works
Guest Post by Lyssa from FuseMoms
I am absolutely addicted to A Baby Story.
It’s not
because I like to witness the miracle of childbirth. It’s not that I
adore seeing a beautiful baby enter the world because, seriously,
babies tend to look like old baseball gloves just after they have
traveled through the birth canal. And it’s not that I secretly wish I
had another buttercup to hold in my arms. For the love of umbilical
cords, I am so over that phase in my life.
I am devoted to the show because I LOVE
to watch first-time mothers-to-be, who are adamant about having a
drug-free birth. I am so pro-epidural that I inquired about mine
during my first visit to the OB/GYN after I realized I was pregnant. I
hold no ill will towards women who do not believe in epidurals. I just
suggest that these gals leave the doorway to relief open, just in case
they find that another human being exiting their body is a tad bit
painful.
On the show,
nine times out of ten, I find those anti-epidural laborers beg loudest
for the torture to cease. This is when I start making bets with
myself. Will the husband tell her to “suck it up” and be strong? Or
will he be smart and bring the nearest anesthesiologist to his wife's
aid? More often than not, I watch in amazement as the husband solemnly
looks into the camera and says, “I just want her to honor her
commitment to the birth plan.” Oh yeah buddy, allow me to drive a
Hummer over your pelvis and see how long you last in the Emergency Room
without requesting a distraction from the suffering.
I’ve always
thought the whole pregnancy/childbirth thing was a smidge one-sided.
I’m not one of those feminist Nazis looking for nature to reverse our
duties – although I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that we really have
had our turn for awhile now. But I thought maybe men could put a
little skin in the game.
I was thinking
that I’d invent a vice the approximate dimensions of an iPod Shuffle
that could be attached to a man’s chest hair. Each time a woman had a
contraction and was told, “It’s not a big deal, baby! Remember the
time I got a paper cut on my tongue from licking that envelope? Now
that was AGONY,” she could twist the clamp until he experienced a
hair-ripping sensation. I’m willing to bet a few twists of the vice
and that lass would not only get her drugs, but also a tennis bracelet
after the blessed event.
Visit Lyssa at FuseMoms: Fusing Moms with fun and frank discussion in the pursuit of surviving motherhood.
