For some reason, people really like asking what “method” you’ve chosen for your child to vacate your body.
“In the same position that they were conceived, of course! Ya think I can pull off a handstand with this belly??!”
If you do decide to try the above line, PLEASE message me about it; I’ll buy you lunch.
If you’re a first-time mom, people’s eyes may roll back into their heads when you use the word “unmedicated” or “natural”. Mothers who have birthed before may scoff or say “HA! Good luck with that!” “First-time” moms/”new” moms, who are moms, take so much flack for literally everything under the sun.
Side note: I don’t like using the word “natural” in general, but especially when it comes to birth. I don’t view C-sections as “unnatural” or “inorganic”. Death and snake poison are natural processes too. Un-medicated sounds wayyy less pretentious too. Onward!
Let’s get one thing straight; the offense/mockery/disbelief that people take towards the concept of choosing an unmedicated birth in this country doesn’t go away even after you’ve birthed without medication. I’ve birthed three babies; two in birthing centers and one in an inflatable tub in my living room. People have given a few responses when I bring up having used a midwife instead of an OB/GYN (if they chose to have an epidural):
“Oh. You think you’re better than me, huh?”
Okay, no people don’t actually say “you think you’re better”, but it’s pretty much implied in many contexts. While walking with two moms after class one day, one of the moms asked the other (who had just given birth the week before) if she’d gone “natural”. The postpartum mom said “No! I’ll run marathons for medals!” Meanwhile, I’m trying not to roll my eyes because I could not care about anything less than how someone else’s child leaves someone else’s body.
“You’re so brave!”
I’m birthing my child; not returning the Ring to Mordor. I think that you’re brave. I couldn’t handle going to the hospital for my births (unless it was medically urgent/necessary/twins). I hate hospitals. I hate people telling me what to do. I hate not being in control of my own body. Don’t call me “brave”. This is what I want!
“WOWWW! YOU’RE SO AMAZING! WERE YOUR BIRTHS SUPER EASY OR SOMETHING?!”
They ranged from “Hnnnnnnnnnn…….” *sound of me not paying attention to a flipping thing around me during my first birth because FOCUS* to”Holy f*ck, kid. Will you come out already?” to “So like….when does labor start?” “You’re dilated to an 8.” “Cool.”
My assumptions regarding someone having a baby are that the person IS HAVING A BABY. I don’t understand why anybody would interject their “should do” opinions on this subject, BUT HERE WE ARE!
There are approximately THREE people who know your baby or your body:
- You
- Your baby
- God/other force of the universe that guides or watches stuff go down
I should give my midwife some credit here. She’s been pretty on point with her guidance, but she also has the humility to acknowledge that she is not psychic. You might say “Well, I don’t even know when my baby will show up!” EXACTLY! And YOU’RE the exit portal!!
How much impact does the birth of a stranger in the grocery line have on your experience? ZERO. She dilated to a ten in five minutes and her baby slid out like a sea sponge? GREAT! You Facebook friend tore hole to hole in the back of a Ford Explorer, delivered by a fireman? THANK YOU FOR THE VISUAL! Heck, even my mom’s (six) birth experiences have resembled mine not at all!! It seems that the only traits that I inherited from her were 1. A cranky uterus that contracts all of the time because WHY NOT?! 2. The ability to get pregnant easily. The former sucks…thanks, Mom!!!! The later is great…thanks, Mommy! ❤
Other people’s birth stories are their stories. Same with their babies. One of the most annoying parts of being a mom (parent period) is the remarkable ability that EVERYONE ELSE gets to tell you how to do anything with your child. And it doesn’t matter how many kids you have. Despite this being my fourth pregnancy, people still enjoy forecasting baby boy will show his face. At the pediatrician’s office, they distribute these rad packets of information filled with recommendations for what to do with your kid. Your pediatrician might give suggestions along the lines of “Hey. You’re kid is like 5 minutes old, but AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE FOR THE WIN! TIME TO SLEEP TRAIN!!!”
As a note, if you feel like sleep-training is best for your baby, family, and general sanity…DO IT! The detail that escapes everyone’s brains is that YOU are the one who is raising your kid! Nobody else has to deal with the crying, tantrums, general “Can we just friggin NOT?!?!” that comes with following their crappy suggestions or just the reality of trying to raise humans.
You want to have an unmedicated birth? Feeling discouraged? Picture this: You’re announcing that you’re running an Iron Man marathon. Do people start swamping your comments section with “I collapsed after mile five! A friend of mine literally drowned while we were swimming! Just forget all of that noise and come join me on the sidelines!” People don’t scoff and tell you that you can’t do it; they give you encouragement. But you bring up giving birth to your own child? Discouragement abounds! Suddenly, EVERYONE is an expert on your body! Everyone knows that you’re just signing up for misery and hell completely naively!
Like, really. Could we be more arrogant? I get the want to share your story with other people, but projecting your experience onto someone else instead of letting them experience it for themselves?! That’s just selfish and arrogant. And don’t pretend like you’re trying to “protect them”. It sounds more like you’re trying to protect your ego and validate your own confidence at the expense of someone else’s. At least let people TRY to do the things that they want. Especially grown women who will be experiencing their birth; NOT YOU! Nobody is asking for you to go through unmedicated birth, people!
Enough about the losers. You’re birthing without medication. Here are some things that I found to be helpful. But BY ALL MEANS, PLEASE TRY what helps YOU!
- Go into yourself. You might feel like making noises that you’ve never made before. Make ’em. You probably won’t be able to help it. The outside world might shut out and that’s okay. Your midwife has got you. It’s okay to fade into your mind. You don’t leave labor without a baby.
- 100% anecdotal based on my own experience. But there are studies to support it. I’m only posting one of them, but if you hit up Google Scholar and type in “dill seeds labor effects”, you’ll find the rest of the literature. Dill tea. Get some dill seeds from any store and steep them in some hot water (add sugar if you want). Drink it when you start active labor or shortly thereafter. Had my easiest labor with this stuff. Not sure what caused what, but it can’t hurt.
- You can do this. Work with whatever your body is doing and don’t fight it. Breathe through contractions. Imagine a wave that you’re going up and down. Whatever visualization helps you. You can’t fight yourself. There is no outside force inflicting anything on you. With unmedicated labor, the sensations are completely your body. Nothing is “hurting” you. Your body wants to give you your baby, and it takes power to do that. Epidurals only shield you from what still has to happen.
- Invite someone who you trust to be an attendee for the birth. I had a team at each of my births; pouring water on my back, giving me sips, massaging my hands, applying counter-pressure. This could be your partner (hopefully, they’re there), mom, sister, best friend, whomever you’re cool with seeing you exposed and vulnerable.
- Water helped me a lot. Actually, I can’t sing enough praises to it. My first would have been born into the birthing center tub had she not come out midway between the bed and the tub. My second and third baby were born into water. I only left the tub to pee. It really took the edge off of the contractions and made maneuvering easier. I’m planning on baby #4 coming out in the tub, but we’ll see what he has in mind.
- The baby’s position makes a HUGE difference. I had back labor with my first because she was turned partially face-up for the first half of labor. After she scootched into place, my back quit hurting. Two and three came out in an awesome launch position, so pushing took nine and seven minutes (respectively). Hopefully, #4 is cooperative.
- My labors got more intense after my water broke. My water broke before labor with #1. My midwife broke my water with #2 once I was dilated to a 5. With #3, I waited until I was dilated to an 8. Her amniotic sack was super thick, and her head was farther down than my cervix (think of a plastic bottle with the top bent sideways), so it had to “snap around” her head to get her out. I’m thinking of not having it broken with #4 or waiting till the very end. But we’ll see what happens when we get there.
Birth is one of the first major decisions that you make as a parent. Sooo much of parenting becomes “Imma do what I want because this works for me.” Your kid may or may not decide to cooperate with what you’ve got planned, but you have every right to try what you want and make adjustments as you go. That’s how life goes, as you know by now. Birth is no different.
This is my fourth, and I have no idea what to expect. Well, somewhat as far as the mechanics are concerned (I do know where my vagina is). But every labor has been totally different. For all I know, this could be a breeze. What do I know? I can do it.
You can do it.
None Given. None Taken. 