Negotiating Childbirth
Written By Paul Keegan
print
single page
comments
As one couple learns, there's a deep divide between labor and management.
Tatiana lay on our bed with her eyes tightly closed. It was a burning sensation, she said, extending all the way around her giant belly, like a scalding belt. "It's like a fire inside me."
"Maybe we should try Rainbow Relaxation," I said helpfully. "Or Opening Blossom—"
"GET AWAY FROM ME!"
This was not how the birth of our child was supposed to begin. Tatiana and I had spent months preparing for this moment. Now we were about to discover whether it's possible to ever really be ready.
Practically as soon as the blue cross appeared on that plastic stick, like a message from the gods, friends had begun regaling us with their stories about episiotomies, breech births, labor marathons. Living in New York City in 2006, we had access to the kind of medical technology that Tatiana's mother could never have dreamed about when she gave birth to Tatiana in the Soviet Union in 1970. Still, we both felt unsettled, anxious. Tatiana could barely sleep. When she finally drifted off, she would awake in a panic, heart pounding.
We hungered for some kind of philosophy that would guide us through this crucible. We could take birthing classes, but most of them sounded perfunctory. Several friends told me the drill: You go to a couple of sessions, learn some breathing exercises, and forget it all when your wife starts screaming for an epidural.
Next: Self-hypnosis. . . in theory
