Enter ever deeper into my hippie world: today we joined a birth circle. Required to attend a Bradley birth class in order to bear bean at the Birthing Center, for twelve weeks we gathered each Sunday to watch videos of that great, messy, hairy miracle of birth. It was not my ideal way to spend a Sunday. I had read all I needed to know about the Bradley Method on books and watching other women’s labor did not in any way make me more comfortable with the prospect of my own.
The very last class, we heard from couples who had gone before us, taking each step we did three months earlier. There were a range if stories, but the majority of them were sobering: only one natural birth, six medicated with two of those resulting in c-sections. Many mothers cried as they recanted their stories. I felt for them, crying with them, and wondered what would become of me and the little bean who was on the verge of escaping the dark warmth of my womb.
Though we faced Hell those few weeks after bean arrived, his birth was as smooth as it could possibly be. I recounted the events tonight in front of three round bellies and four other six month olds. I am so excited for these new parents; life is amazing with love like this.
I did forget to tell them one thing (and I’m sure many other things but this one I at least remember I forgot): with my labor came uncontrollable shaking and an icy chill. The next time this happens (if I am so blessed) I’ll have to do my best to sing “shake it off” in between episodes of chattering teeth.