Childbirth

Our baby is due in 44 DAYS. To many, this means they will be able to hold our perfect baby in about a month and a half. To me, this means I will be popping out a baby. Popping being the key word here. I’ve seen child birthing videos before and Ryan and I have dedicated Tuesday nights to One Born Every Minute. Because of this, I am freaking myself out even more. I think it’s normal to be scared or paranoid about the actual delivery, right? I guess you just have to realize that this is what our bodies are made for and that woman push babies out daily.

Each episode shows at least one horrendous labor and delivery and one that seems like a piece of cake. I like to think that I am destined to have the latter, but in reality, chances are I am going to be that woman who is screaming bloody murder telling the nurses and doctors to get this baby out of me or plenty of expletives (don’t judge)! I feel slightly more educated about deliveries from watching the show. Sad, huh? I’ve seen babies being “corkscrewed” out of a mommy and not crying for what seemed like an eternity. While I was bawling over it, I realize that these things happen, you just have to be patient, and trust in not only the doctors and nurses but also in God’s plan for your family. I am terrified of delivery. I am terrified that that beautiful first cry may be delayed if there is even one at all. Each time we watch the show I am literally clenching the couch and holding my breath. It’s probably not so good that we are watching this show nearly 6 weeks before we will be in the exact situation as these couples. Ryan peeks over at me all the time during the show to “check on me.” Each time, I am of course crying over something that’s happening---the baby FINALLY being out of the mommy that is absolute pain because her epidural only works on one side of her body, the mommy who is fearful of any and all things related to a C-Section and is being wheeled into the OR, or the daddys who are so proud of their wives for being so strong and actually pushing those little boogers out.

I always picture me and Ryan in our room through the labor and the delivery. What we will say to each other, what we will act like, how will we joke with each other, how he will comfort me since I will be petrified (and in pain), how nervous his will be knowing his loving wife is about to experience the “toughest” thing ever in my life. It’s comical to me at times as well knowing how freaked out we think we are both going to be. I keep running through scenarios asking Ryan how he thinks he would respond and waiting for his response knowing that in the actual event of childbirth it will most likely be the complete opposite. I do know that Ryan will be such a supporter and make me feel 100% better. I know that he is going to be dealing with the infamous nervous stomach of his. I know that no matter what happens, I will always have him to lean on. I know I will probably have some cross words to tell him and that he will simply brush them off and not think anything of it.

Six weeks seems like an eternity when you think about getting to finally hold your baby…but, on the flip side, I think I need more than 6 weeks to prep myself for the expelling of a baby from my body. I’ve even asked Ryan if he would be willing to carry and have the next baby for us. If only it were that easy.