It recently came to my attention that writing a “birth plan” needs to be part of my before-Baby-Jacob-arrives to-do list. (Apparently, “Baby coming out of my birthing canal” isn’t thorough enough.)
Although I don’t have all the details of the worked out yet, I have known for awhile that I wanted a birthing tub to be an option on the Big Day.
In order to use the birthing tubs at the hospital where I will be delivering, Tom and I were required to attend a two-hour water birthing class, which we did last Thursday. To start the class, the instructor asked the moms in the room why they wanted a water birth. Each woman responded, often including something about allowing the baby making an easier transition from the womb world to the real world.
After hearing all of their altruistic answers, I was beginning to feel like a selfish toad of a mother-to-be. I hadn’t much considered how Baby Jacob would feel about a water birth (besides “born” at the end of it all). Instead, I had opted for a water birth simply because I love to take baths. When I was a little girl, I loved playing with the tub crayons, toys and bubbles. Now, taking a bath is my go-to plan for just about everything—getting warm, reading a book, relaxing, playing with my rubber duck, you name it. In my mind, there is never a good reason NOT to take a bath.
During the early days of my pregnancy when I was vomiting a bajillion times a day—yes, I counted and that was the number I arrived at in every 24-hour period—I would regularly find myself on the bathroom floor sobbing in misery. The only thing that helped during that three-month stretch was a bath. It calmed my nerves and soothed my headaches and wrenched-up stomach muscles. Plus, the tub was only 6 inches away from our toilet, so it was a win-win.
In sum, water just makes me feel better. And, I can’t comprehend a scenario in which someone would need to feel better than while sitting naked as a jaybird forcing a human being out of their body in front of total strangers. While I’m not na