Hokey Pokey (What this blog's all about)

A writing challenge I've given myself to write every day for six months. After some posts, I'll put in a comment with a brief explanation of the inspiration for the piece. Some posts will be practice for bigger projects: character sketches or settings. I don't really know what all will happen which is why I'm doing it.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Day 70

I'm thinking a lot about labor and delivery on account of I'm pregnant.  Last time around I had the baby at home.  I planned and read and there was much convincing of the husband and in the end we did it exactly the way I wanted.  It fucking hurt.  But it was the best way for us and I have zero regrets about the decision.

So here I am, in the room where my son was born.  Where I have the most vivid and wonderful memory of my life of golden sheets and golden afternoon sunlight and mac n cheese and this golden child that we simply could not stop staring at.  And I'm in here with this memory and yet, I am afraid this time.  Yet I can't come to terms with a hospital birth either.

Most of the time, I think "I have time." And I don't worry about making a decision yet, but soon we need to decide.  And I just don't know.  I lean toward home birth but don't want to push the husband this time and he leans toward intervention and the hospital.  The statistics (somewhat debatably) support home birth as long as I continue to be low risk and use a certified midwife, which we would.  I don't think I can pull of a natural birth in a hospital.  It seriously hurt, ya'll.  I also think I'd be super fucking pissed at the nurses talking to me and touching me.  Having two midwives where you know exactly who they'll be and how they'll handle you is much easier to handle than a host of shift-changing nurses and who-knows-which OB.  Yet, I can't settle on this option either.  It hurt.  I kind of just want it to hurt less this time.  Could the OB's office promise me that it will be the OB that I like and that she'll just be the person who does all the work with me?  Or could the midwife just give me a lil shot of somethin and promise it won't hurt as bad.  Ok, good.  Cuz that would help.

This is unrelated to creative writing.  I'm just hoping emptying my mind about it a little will help me refocus on writing again.  I'm working on a story I like about a woman who hangs out in peoples' houses when they're not home.  If I get a good version, I'll post it here.  Hopefully I do because I like the story concept.

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