SOUL SAP

Congratulations! It's a Cadillac!

I've probably heard my birth story from my mom a hundred times. I was expected to evacuate my comfy uterine home on my Grandpa Jones' birthday, but apparently things were so great in there, I had to be evicted after being two days overdue on rent.

When I was midway through my first pregnancy, she told me, "Get the saddle block (translation: epidural). I got to sit back and enjoy bringing you into this world!" This was something I heard over and over, and also from a woman with the most amazing pain tolerance of anyone in the history of the planet. "When I was having you, the nurses looked at my belly and said, 'Oh my God! Her stomach is getting darker and darker!' I had a nice tan at that time, and as my tummy deflated, it turned almost black!".

My mom is of Native American descent, and with that comes lovely dark skin (something I did NOT inherit). I am more of the sun burn and heat rash type that comes with Swedish genes.

"When you came out, all I could do was look at your feet! 'She's got her father's feet!' I said." Based off of her story I learned that birth will not only be an enjoyable experience, but I will come out of it with a flat, tanned stomach, and I'll be feeling so great that I will crack jokes with the nurses. Also, I have big feet.

At about the six month mark, we had to start thinking about taking the birthing classes. My husband anticipated they would be a waste of time (after all, women have been birthing without classes since the beginning of time, right?), but I looked at it as studying for the biggest final exam of my life.

The first class, I came prepared with pens, paper, comfortable clothes, pillows, and a water bottle. The instructor explained that we would be watching a lot of videos, and most of them would entail an actual birth. I had seen a birth via video before, but it had been many years. What I remembered was that I did not like the visual of something the size of a half dollar stretching to accommodate an object that resembled a squishy watermelon.

Simply put, I am a queasy gal with the pain tolerance of a two year old with a horrible pain tolerance.

I cry when giving blood, pass out whenever needles are involved, and have even been known to faint during my "lady exams". I will never forget my OB saying, "If we can't get you through an exam, how are we going to get a baby out of you?" Good question, Doc. I've changed my mind.

The reason why our instructor was showing us so many videos was to desensitize us. It is a technique coined by Psychologists called "Flooding". This term has stuck around in my brain since Psych 101 class. While the instructor explained the concept, all I could think about was being put in a box and having spiders poured on top of my head.

I mean, I guess your fear is cured because you are now dead.

I remember one video in particular that was filmed in Columbia. These women were essentially alone (with the exception of the camera man), all in a squatting position, and none of them had their saddles blocked. There was no screaming, crying, cursing, grabbing their husband's balls while spitting the predictable, "You did this to me". They were amazing.

So much so that I felt empowered, and even thought, "Maybe I can do this without the juice. You know, Columbian-style".

My water broke at 9:20am, three hours into my labor. The night before, Jack and I had a dance-off in the kitchen, and I was jumping around while singing, "Drop it like it's hot"... so the onset of labor should not have been a big surprise. However, it was. I supposed it always is.

Right before the bag broke, I had a contraction that sent me to my hands and knees at a speed that was not unlike slipping on a banana peel. Just a quick note that if I saw someone actually slip on a banana peel, I'd likely drop to my knees and pee my pants.