I’ve
never liked roller coasters or thrill rides. They’re just not my thing. I don’t
like the sensation of free falling and I certainly don’t like being upside
down. About ten years ago I went to a theme park with a group of my
girlfriends. Of course one of the major schemes for the whole trip was to try
to get scaredy cat Shan to go on something other than the Ferris Wheel. I kept
toying with the idea of going on the tower ride. It’s the one where you wear a
shoulder harness with your legs dangling towards to ground and it slowly
carries you to the top. The worst part is you have no idea when it’s going to
drop you. I finally gave in and told my friends I would do it. At this point I
still wasn’t 100 percent sold on actually going through with it. As I stood in
line I thought, ‘I can always back out. I don’t have to do this.” I kept
thinking that same thought the whole way through the line and even up until I
was strapped in. It’s amazing how calming it can be to just know you have an
out, not necessarily that you will take it. After a few minutes the ride jolted
slightly and then slowly starting carrying us up towards to sky. In that moment
I realized I had no choice but to endure the consequences of my decision. I had
no idea if it would be fun or terrifying, I just knew I no longer had a way
out.
As
I have stated in previous posts, I do anything and everything within my power
to avoid pain at all costs. I don’t have a high pain tolerance so I make calculated
decisions about how best to avoid getting hurt. Before I got pregnant, the
inevitable pain of childbirth wasn’t even on my radar. It was like I was still
standing in line for the tower ride. By standing in line, it doesn’t mean
you’re going to go through with it. Even when we started trying to get pregnant
I still thought there’s no need to start worrying about how in the world a
human is going to come out of me. When I saw the positive result on the test it
still didn’t fully set in because I was way too excited to care. Plus, nine
months was a long way away.
I
recently saw the movie “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” and the reality
of my fate finally started to sink in. What used to be nine months away is now
only a mere 10-11 weeks away. The storyline follows a couple different women
who are all expecting and documents how differently their bodies respond. There
have been some rare days when I feel like the “supermodel” storyline with tons
of energy and a mom-to-be glow that just won’t quit. There have never been any
days when I feel like the fitness trainer who is still doing lunges at 7
months. And a couple times I have felt like the crazy lady who is having an
emotional meltdown in the movie trailer saying, “I’m callin’ it ladies,
pregnancy sucks. Growing a human being is really hard. I have no control over
my body or my emotions!”
As
the movie culminates in the births of all the babies, I finally realized the
ride started moving a long time ago and I am in no way getting off. Of course I
wouldn’t want to get off even if I could. But it’s a little frightening when
you know you have no choice in what is going to happen to you. I have no idea
how, but eventually, this baby is coming out.
Now
here’s the big shocker. I am going to attempt to complete my rollercoaster ride
without drugs. The scaredy cat girl who hates pain is going to try and give
birth without the help of modern medicine. My plan may sound crazy but I’m not
completely naïve. If my poor little body just can’t take it then I’ll get the
epidural. For me, a lot of the time pain is a mental game. If I know why I’m in
pain and I know it will eventually end, then it’s easier to suck it up and deal
with it. I’m hoping the fact that knowing I will get to meet my child at the
end of the ordeal will make it mentally doable. I’m also trying to go into the
situation knowing that literally anything can happen. I might need an emergency
c-section or I might just sneeze and have a baby in my arms.
This
week I also noticed that I’ve started feeling a very small sense of
entitlement. I should probably get a handle on it because entitlement is never
an attractive quality. I think it’s the “growing a human being is really hard”
lady coming out in me a little. For example, when someone cuts in front of me
in line or takes the last seat in the room I think to myself, “Really? You
really think you need that chair? Look at me! Growing a person here!!”
Moms,
it’s time to scare me with your crazy birth stories! Did the epidural not work?
Did it hurt even worse than you imagined? It’s too late to sugar coat it for
me! I’m committed!
P.S. Keep scrolling to the post from Thursday, the 7th if you want to hear about my "I'm never flying again in my third trimester" experience!
