I know plenty of preggos right now and I want you to follow this piece of advice:
Record your baby’s birth.
Some of you are probably thinking “duh, what sort of cretin would FAIL to record the BIRTH OF THEIR CHILD!?” And some of you are probably thinking, “yeah, I don’t really need repeat viewings of me being cranky and sweaty and on gory display, thanks.” I was one of the latter. I didn’t want to watch the baby come out. When the nurse suggested that I might want to feel the baby’s head as it was crowning, I thought the nurse’s head should maybe be checked.
Recently, Brian suggested that if we ever have another baby, I should have them put up the mirror for me to watch. Um…thanks but no thanks. First of all, now that I’m on the med-free L&D bandwagon, I think it is difficult enough to FEEL that happening to my body, I don’t think I could bear to WATCH it happen, too. But also, YUCK, right? I really do appreciate the miracle of birth, but visually… I can’t even watch the videos of other women. It’s just …
not aesthetically pleasing I’m just gonna go ahead and say it- it’s kinda gross.
And he said, well, maybe I could just videotape it, for you to watch later if you want to. And again I was pretty sure that was just not something I needed to see from any perspective other than the one I lived through the first time. But then…
You go through all the work of pregnancy. The swelling and the back pain and the vomiting and the sleeplessness and the exquisite pain of seeing that happen to your body. Eventually you pray for labor to start, SOON! And then, there is the labor. Labor is work! Plus it’s a little mortifying, having everyone and their brother seeing you in all that…glory. And then you push the baby out. And you feel like this might be a feat you just can’t accomplish. And maybe you yell “someone just pull him out of me!” (oh, just me? okay then.) And you worry about swearing or tearing or pooping on the table (!) or cutting off all blood flow to your huband’s fingers. And then…there it is. Now is the moment when that amazing, beautiful being suddenly enters this world, and through your delirium or your pain or your exhaustion, you hear that amazing, beautiful cry.
That might be something you want to remember.
And the first time you hold your son or daughter. And the look on your husband’s face.
You think you’ll never forget these things. I’m devastated to admit that a lot of it’s already fuzzy from Lola’s birth. Corbin’s birth is still pretty clear, and I think “how could I EVER forget these sublime moments of humanity?” But really, the haze of motherhood makes remembering even your own phone number sort of a challenge. (And really, don’t even try asking for my social security number unless you have a few minutes to wait while I start telling you my husband’s and then my checking account number and then, wait! maybe this is it!) So now I’m wishing we were having another just so I can have that damn video. Sure, you’ll be later embarrassed by moments like these:
nothing says sexy and sophisticated like a hospital gown, an IV pole, boot socks and slippers. Hi Matty.
me, stuffing my face with McDonalds shortly after giving birth.
But it’s pretty much made worthwhile by ones like these:
Lola, a few seconds after being born.
Moments after nursing my very first baby for the very first time.
Good stuff that I wish I could remember better.
Also, book the expensive newborn photography. I mean it. You can always cancel later, but I don’t want you to spend hours crying one day because your baby is getting big so fast and now it’s too late (I totally did that.)
Trust me. I’m giving you pearls of wisdom here, people.