(The birth story series starts here.)

My mom had the largest influence on my perception of childbirth. She’d had endometriosis and told about laying in bed and focusing on the second hand sweeping around the face of the clock in the hot midwest summer, trying to focus on anything but the pain, filling super duper diaper sized Kotex by the hour as her body recovered. She knew cramps. That being said, her birth story of me was very brief:

I knew at the end of it that I would have you. I knew that this was only a matter of hours, not a matter of weeks of pain. I knew there was a reason for this pain – it was bringing me you.

That was it. She had some V@lium and had a baby. I was always skeeved about the episiotomy and she said that with all the counter pressure from my head pressing down that it wasn’t really all that bad. But this is from the woman who watches it when she gets shots – so, you know, whatever.

The details of the labor was that she was in labor for about 30 hours from first twinge to screaming baby. I chose to lay on my side and not move. Once I flipped off my side, I was delivered in one push, so quickly they couldn’t even roll the mirror up so she could watch. Once I was ready to be born, I got on with it.

Um. Nothing has changed in my personality in the last few decades.

The biggest drama of my birth is that I was NOT a boy. I was supposed to be.

With this kind of backing, I never really considered having anything other than a natural childbirth (I rebel against the word “natural” here – like having drugs is “unnatural,” but for the sake of an easily recognized term, I will use it.) My mom had me without drugs, so I could labor without drugs.

Mom taught first aid for several years, the books had childbirth photos – I used to stare at those for hours. I spent my entire life being fascinated by the pregnancy, labor and birth process – I looked to my own with interest to see what it was really like. I was curious about it rather than afraid – and this is all because of my mom’s take on what it was like to have me.

(Ten Steps for Creating Breast Health)