I'll Hold My Real Vomit If You Hold Your Word Vomit

As you may have noticed from the fancy baby widget to the right over there, we now have less than 60 days to go before this baby makes his grand entrance into the world. It seams that every day there is a new flashing neon sign to remind me of impending motherhood.

One week ago, by best friend, who was only 9 weeks 'more pregnant' than me, gave birth to Charlie. He is a darling and oddly alert little boy with more hair than Das Piper and adorable little hands that I would love to chew on if they weren't slapping me in the face saying 'Hey wait! Don't you get one of these in just 9 weeks or so?'

This week marks the end of our prenatal classes. As my instructor Sally puts it, as soon as we 'graduate' it's on, we're ready to have a baby. . . I think maybe my O.B.G.Y.N was a little more accurate when he said this: "Prenatal classes are great, when labour starts Dad will know exactly what to expect. . . Mom, you will have no idea"

Saturday was August 1st. Saturday morning I woke up and the only thought I was able to think was 'I can now officially tell people that I am having a baby at the end of next month.'. When I rolled over a told Das Piper this he looked a little pale, but quickly smiled and said something sweet to cover it.

These are only a few of the signs, some of the cosmic reminders that I really should stop procrastinating and actually buy an ear thermometer, and a diaper pail, and eight thousand more blankets, because for some reason I am utterly convinced that we will need all of the blankets in the world.

Anyways, the point is that, yes, I know that I am about to birth a child, I am thinking about it constantly, and there are a thousand million little things reminding me along the way, and staying calm and relaxed and positive about the experience is getting a little tougher every week. So I do not need anyone to take it upon themselves to further remind me.

If you should see me on the street, reach out and touch my belly without asking if you absolutely must, but please, do not tell me about your birthing experience, or your friends birthing experience, or that woman you read about in Argentina who had three episiotomies, the vacuum, and the forceps turned on her after 68 hours of labour before they finally gave up and gave her a Cesarean section. It's really not helpful.

What I really don't understand about this word vomit epidemic that seams to have hit friends, family, and strangers alike; is that not one of these woman has anything positive to say about it. This makes me really sad. Maybe I am just being naive in that glowing pregnant woman kind of way, but it makes me really really sad that not one of the women who have chosen to regale me with every detail of the birth of their children seams to have enjoyed the experience.

Yes, I know, it's going to hurt, even more so if I do have the drug free labour that I would like. My point is that it's supposed to hurt, and it's supposed to take a long time, and you're supposed to feel exhausted and overwhelmed. A woman's body in labour is working 10 times harder than it has ever worked before in her life, and even with support and self education, and pre-determined coping techniques this is bound to take a mental and emotional toll. But at the end of the day it's what the last 40 weeks has been leading up to, it's the hard stretch right before the finish line, the prize at the end being your child. I can see this being a hard experience, but I refuse to believe that it is not a positive one.

If this is doesn't jive with your experience, please keep in mind that it is just that, your experience, and in the coming 56 days and beyond I will have my own, and I would prefer to interpret the experience myself, without anyone else's influence.