I feel like I am organising a cast of millions for this birth. There will be 5 people on the day, 6 if you count the baby. Two of them are midwives, who have to be there legally, one is my boyfriend, one is me and the other is my Doula, a trained labour support person who will provide me with emotional and physical support. Sue is going to help me practice coping techniques before the birth and be at the birth itself to help me do it without going to the hospital and taking every drug known to man. She will help me work with the pain instead of fight against it. I trust her and know that she will help me challenge the midwives if they want to intervene, and assess risks as they happen.
The only reason I should need to go to the hospital is in an emergency so this week we trotted along for a visit so it won’t all be new and traumatic, just traumatic. We saw a labour room, just a large space with a bed in it and a bathroom attached but I didn’t see what I will see if I go there – an operating theatre. It didn’t smell as bad as hospitals usually do but it was pretty grim, in a sort of plugs too high up on the wall and lots of plastic wrapped things in boxes around the place. The midwife giving the tour was pretty good, but I still felt that she told half the story; when she went through the drug options there was no mention of the side effects of pethedine for mothers and their babies or risks associated with epidurals.
Also this week, Vicky, my lovely Shiatsu lady, lent me a birthing ball. It is like a huge beach ball that you can lie on or sit on and is the most comfortable bit of furniture in the world. I have it inflated enough to support me but also give room for the bump, so I can lie on my front! Bliss! Even better, if I pile 4 pillows in front of it, the ball supports my tummy and head and the pillows make a book the right height to read. When will the wild crazy hedonism end? It is brilliant for stretching my back, apparently good for getting the foetus into a good position and you can exercise on it too, that is if you are not too busy lying on it murmering ‘ahh, bliss’.
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