Renegade Birthing

Now that I am once again with child (she said with a snooty tone to her voice), you will get to hear about all the lovely details of pregnancy and how I very admirably handle it. Our first order of business was to find a place to have the dang baby. I was able to have both girls naturally, Princess in a hospital and Pea in a birthing center. The state we lived in where Pea was born was one of those places where about 90% of the population chose alternative birth, and just about everyone I knew was either studying to be a midwife, was a midwife, was related to a midwife, had friends who were midwives, or at the very least has stood behind someone in a grocery store once who had a t shirt with a really uncomfortable quote about birth that only midwives appreciate. When we moved back home, we were in a much different situation. Midwives aren't recognized in the state we live in, which makes home birth illegal and birthing centers unpopular. I looked into home birth but in order to have one you are basically on the lookout for a black market midwife. You have to know someone who knows someone and then show up at a designated place at a designated time with a breast pump, some evening primrose oil and a copy of Ina May's "Spiritual Midwifery". You will then be ushered into a dark room and felt down for a wire, and then forced to sign a contract in blood stating that you will never reveal to the authorities that you had a planned home birth. Honestly, the idea of doing something that is ridiculous in it's illegality totally appeals to me, but since insurance doesn't usually cover illegal procedures, it was back to the drawing board. Hubby dearest and I dropped the kiddos off with his Mom (which we can do now that we are back home! Woot!) and took the drive to check out what we thought was the closest birthing center. An hour and 45 minutes later, we realized that I had failed to look at the address closely, and it was in fact in a different state. Whatever-then our kids would all have different birth states! How unique of us! We also would have to drive through a major city. No problem! First rule baby-no arriving at rush hour! We pulled up to a generic looking shopping center and looked around for the building. Yup, sure enough, right next to "Laundromat" and "Florist" was "Birthing Center". Although we were a bit put off by the exterior, our tour was amazing and I loved the midwife we met. We both walked out of there sold on the place, sort of forgetting about that 2 hour drive. On the way home the discussion turned to what may happen if we didn't quite make it to the birthing center and how we might handle that. Now, let me tell you a little something about my husband. If something is outside the box, renegade, slightly dangerous, unheard of or otherwise taboo, he is most likely into it. So when I mentioned that there was a possibility that we may have the baby in the car, he was ready for the chance. I swear, you'd think his lifetime dream as a child was to deliver a baby on the side of the highway with traffic whizzing past at 70 miles an hour. He immediately launched into plans of a birthing station that we could set up quickly in the back of our minivan. An emergency birthing kit, involving classes on how to use it, infant CPR, jugs of water, blankets, spare clothes for both of us, cloths and blankets were all brought up in a matter of seconds. I think he had even designed a way for a tarp to automatically pop up to cover the entire back area and had a large tissue box of lap pads ready to spring from the side compartment at the touch of a button. He then asked me if I would know when it was time to pull over if we had to. He asked, "I mean, do you know when it's time to push?" Well, anyone who has had a natural birth knows this a dumb question. It's not a matter of you knowing it's time to push, it's you not being able to do a damn thing about it when it's time. I tried to describe the phenomenon to him, but the best thing that came out was, "You know when you have to throw up, right? And you honestly can't help it!? Well, it's like that, but out of your vagina." And really, if he was going to scrunch up his face at that comment, I can't imagine what he would actually do if faced full on with the phenomenon I had described. While my husband is an amazing birth partner and I couldn't have done it without him, laying legs splayed in the back of my minivan on the side of the road while random people stop to help and he's screaming, "Oh god you just pooped on me!" is not exactly how I ever imagined a birth to go. We both took a moment to bask in the idea of what good stories we'd have to tell after a time like that, and the look on people's faces when I described my husband holding up our newborn baby like Simba to all the traffic on I-40, triumphant. Luckily, the midwife had also told us about a new birthing center that just opened that is only 40 minutes away from us, so we decided to forgo the adventure and stick closer to home. This means there is less of chance that my husband will be able to carry out his plans of pop up saran wrap, but after adding up time in the car for check ups not to mention driving there in labor and back with a newborn, we decided it wasn't worth it. Of course, it is still a 40 minute drive... maybe we should buy that newborn emergency kit just in case.