What is Natural Parenting: Preparing for Birth

This is one in a series of posts about what Natural Parenting looks like in our family. See the rest of the series here.

This was an easy one for me. I have been interested in birth, both personally and professionally, for several years now. I was working as a health researcher on topics related to maternal and perinatal health at the time I became pregnant and had read various clinical guidelines regarding intrapartum care. Now, these weren’t particularly “natural”, nor would I put it on my list of recommended reading for a newly pregnant woman, but it did give me a good understanding of how birth “works” in the English medical system. Since we have midwifery-led care for the majority of women here, there is generally a good emphasis on physiological birth and woman-centred care. It also flagged up a few things, such as routine managed third stage of labour (i.e. shot of Pitocin to help deliver the placenta), that I knew I would want to research more and think about in greater depth.

St Gerard Majella
patron of expectant mothers

On the personal side, I had been following various blogs on natural birthing topics for several years. Favourites include Stand and Deliver, First the Egg, Talk Birth, and Birthing Beautiful Ideas. (I was actually reading Rixa’s dissertation on Unattended Childbirth in North America when I became pregnant. A really fascinating read if you are interested in birth culture and sociology sort of things.) My mind was made up even before I was pregnant that I would strive for a natural birth. A big part of this, for me, was to plan for a low-intervention birth, doing as much preparation that I could. I wanted to know what experiences of natural birth were like, both physically and mentally, as told by women who had already done it. I assumed that my experience, while unique, would in some ways be similar to the experiences of other women, and therefore things wouldn't be as much of a surprise during the event. 

While I was planning my low-intervention birth, I was also mentally preparing for needing to change these plans during labour. I came to realise that the most important thing for me to have a positive labour and delivery was to be able to be an agent in my own birth. I didn’t want other people to make decisions for me (unless in a very severe emergency!). I knew that I might not be able to use my rational brain as much as normal during labour, so if I wanted to be able to make my own decisions, I would have to go into labour with a lot of knowledge.  If a midwife or doctor was going to tell me that X was happening during my labour, I wanted to already know what that meant and what some of the courses of action might be. I obviously would trust my care providers to have my best interests at heart, and I didn't feel the need--or like it was possible!--to become an expert on all things birth-related. At the same time, I wanted any informed consent to be truly informed, and I felt that I could better get that information over the course of many months from many sources, rather than during the intensity of labour. 

 

So I read. A lot. I drastically increased the number of birthing blogs that I read during my pregnancy. I read several books, but made sure that the books I chose had a philosophy that was encouraging of a low-intervention birth (I didn't want a book to set out to scare me!). Some books that I found useful were

• Blooming Birth by Lucy Atkins and Julia Guderian—I remember this having a very realistic and approachable tone, with lots of practical tips for birth preparation
• Birth Reborn by Michel Odent—this was more for philosophy and getting into a positive mindset about birth than for practical tips, although his ideas (found here and elsewhere) about having a safe, relaxed space for birthing definitely influenced / increased my desire for a homebirth
• Gentle Birth, Gentle Mothering by Dr Sarah Buckley—this book uses medical science to look at some common interventions in child birth, to help parents come to the decisions that are right for their family. It is definitely pro-natural birth (some might say biased), but has good information. Sceptical me did have to take some of the anecdotes on more mystical elements of childbirth with a grain of salt, though. 

Jon and I also attended an antenatal class run by the NCT, a national charity. This was a 16-hour class (spread over several sessions!) on various aspects of labour, birth, and parenting a newborn. There were 5 other couples expecting their first baby as well. The NCT generally has a very pro-natural childbirth stance (some say too much so), but our class had a really good approach of discussing the pros and cons of various interventions without pushing an agenda. For example, the leader did a very useful role-play activity to show who all the people in an operating room at a Caesarean birth are. One of the fathers laid down on the (operating) table, and the rest of us stood around him, acting as doctors, nurses, and midwives. The goal was to help lessen a parent’s anxiety if they needed an emergency Caesarean and all of a sudden had a load of people running into the room. On the other hand, we also talked extensively about homebirths. It was this class, more than anything, that helped Jon become comfortable with the idea of a homebirth.

Our Lady of Guadalupe

In preparation for what I knew would be a physically strenuous labour and delivery, I tried to keep active throughout pregnancy. I am not really an exerciser, but I do like to walk (and since I don’t have a car, I need to walk a lot, too!). I tried to continue walking as much as possible without wearing myself out. I was blessed with a fairly easy pregnancy and, once I got the iron situation sorted out, more energy than I expected. Although, when I went on maternity leave at 36 weeks, I may have taken a bit too much advantage of the possibility of lie-ins and lazy afternoons on the couch, and probably could have kept going a bit more. (I also blame this lazing about for Gus’s posterior positioning—I should have been scrubbing the floors to keep him in position like old-time midwives used to say!) While I think keeping active is one thing that I’d be more conscious of in a next pregnancy, I have a feeling it wouldn’t be too difficult with a toddler/pre-schooler to look after!


I thought about hypnobirthing or hiring a doula, but I decided against both of them. There were no local hypnobirthing classes at the time, and I didn't think I would have the discipline to listen to the tapes every day. (Plus, I think Jon would be very skeptical about hypnobirthing. While that wouldn't stop me if it was an idea I was committed to, having Jon's full support during the labour and delivery was more important to me).   We didn't get a doula because I wasn't sure if I would like another person there during the labour. I think I would seriously consider getting one for a next birth, though. I think the whole day was quite draining for Jon, so it would be good to have some support for him. He was an amazing support person for me, but there were times when I knew what I needed to do, but I needed to hear it from someone else in order to get up the energy. The midwives weren't the right support at the time, and Jon didn't have enough knowledge about birth to know specifically what to say, so I think I would like a doula to fill that gap.

Gus's birth story (part three)

At last, the part you have all been waiting for--the actual birth part of the birth story!
Parts one and two.

***

Around 8 o’clock, MW2 left and MW3 came.  I had gotten out of the tub and was back on the landing, labouring on my hands and knees, or lying on my side to get a bit of rest. Gradually, I started feeling sicker and sicker during the contractions—literally nauseous. It felt like my body was going in two directions, pressure going up and going down. Transition.  I think I even mentioned to Jon that this must be transition because, apparently, at this stage, the contractions change from the uterine muscles pulling up in order to open the cervix to pushing down to push out the baby. And that is exactly what it felt like. Every contraction I wanted to retch, which was not a nice feeling, especially after my burrito lunch! And it seemed to go on forever. MW1 asked if I wanted some gas and air, but pain wasn’t the least concern for me (although it probably was there). Instead, I would have taken anything to get rid of the retching feeling! Lots of fervent prayers were said at this time: God, please help me get through this. God, make it stop soon!

Luckily, I did have my wonderful birth partner, Jon. My husband was an absolute star the whole day. He was always so encouraging and right there next to me, supporting me physically and emotionally, rubbing my back, offering food or drink as needed, giving encouraging words. I definitely couldn’t have done it without him. And apparently he was coming down with quite a bad cold and felt like crap all day, but never let it show, as he didn’t think I would appreciate his little miseries very much!

All the while I was labouring, MW1 was intermittently taking phone calls, talking to another labouring woman.  This really annoyed me, especially as I was getting toward the end; I was mentally quite ready to start pushing, but I felt I needed to wait for her to get off the phone.  I later found out that her daughter was in labour and having some complications, and she was helping her make some decisions. I didn’t mind once I knew, but she could have told me before, so that I didn’t have to waste energy being annoyed! And I think I only waited about 2 minutes. I don’t want it to sound like she ignored me the whole time, because she didn’t, it’s just that 2 minutes can be a long time in labour! But finally, she did a VE and told me what I was pretty sure I already knew—10cm, time to start pushing!

We started off quite relaxed, me kneeling and leaning over on Jon, pushing as I felt the urge. After about half an hour of this, I was getting really tired. MW1 suggested sitting down, so I sat in front of Jon, putting my hands on his knees or arms around his neck behind me to lift my bum up a bit with each contraction / push.  I found it really difficult and tiring to push. I would start pushing at the beginning of each contraction, but get exhausted and stop after about 30 seconds. Additionally, I couldn’t really tell when the contractions were ending, so I didn’t realise I should (according to MW1) keep pushing. She wanted me to push through the whole contraction, to minimise the amount that Gus slid back up in between, I guess. Also, she was not happy with me making a lot of noise; apparently it wasted energy, although I couldn’t figure out how to do it without making noise, so I basically just ignored her on that one.

Pushing seemed to just go on and on. I was so tired, I think I was crying. I felt like I wasn’t doing it right, as MW1’s manner was quite prescriptive. All I wanted to do was rest. I thought maybe changing position would help, so I went back on my knees. But then it was really hard to rest in between in that position, and MW1 said that my pushes were more constructive when I was sitting, so I moved back to that position. At the start of each contraction, Jon would put his hand on my stomach, and let me know when it had stopped. This way, I could push throughout the contraction, although I still would have to take a break halfway through, out of sheer exhaustion.

Finally, Gus’s little head was visible and stayed in place, but there seemed to be a bit of a lip that I just couldn’t get his head around. (Jon looked and said it was really cool to see baby’s head and all his hair. He also liked that he could see my abdomen “deflating” as Gus moved downwards!) I thought maybe changing positions would help again, but I was too tired to move! After about an hour 45 minutes of pushing, MW3, who had been monitoring Gus’s heart rate with the Doppler every few minutes, told us that Gus’s heart rate was starting to slow. Not so much that we needed to worry, but that I really needed to muster all my energy and make these pushes count. I found this really encouraging. Not that Gus’s HR was dropping, but MW3’s manner. Up until this point, he had been really laid back, but the change in attitude really helped.  So I pushed with a more concerted effort, but that baby’s head still didn’t want to move. MW1 suggested an episiotomy, which I really didn’t want, but after about 10 minutes, I couldn’t do it anymore.  She made the cut, and with the next push, Gus’s whole body shot out, face up (so that explains the pain and pressure in my back!), screaming his little head off!

We have a Gus!

It was amazing. He was put straight onto my chest, but he just kept screaming away. Jon and I were touching him and talking to him, telling him how excited we were that he had arrived. And how much we already loved this amazing little person.  MW1 asked Jon if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord. He was about to do it when she said Make sure not to cut his penis, which really freaked Jon out, and he decided to leave that bit to the professional. (I am not sure how you could get the two confused, or why the cord would have to be so close to the penis, but nevermind. Jon didn’t care too much about cutting the cord anyway.)  I vaguely thought, Wait until it is done pulsing, but was too enamoured with my new baby to care. And then the placenta was delivered about two minutes later, so it probably had stopped by then anyway. It was funny, because I was completely wrapped up in my baby (trying to comfort him to stop crying—he went on for what seemed like ages!), but part of me noticed when MW3 commented on the true knot in Gus’s umbilical cord (!) and the assessment of my blood loss (<500 ml). A researcher’s brain never rests, I guess. J

We just cuddled Gus and helped him to suckle (champion eater from the start!) there on the landing for some time, then MW1 suggested I move to the bed so she could stitch me up.  I was very thankful for the gas and air during the stitches!  Jon sat on a chair in the bedroom, shirtless, holding Gussy to his chest. They were so beautiful.  Gus was also weighed at this time, basically the only time he was out of our arms till we fell asleep that night.  Then, after a quick shower, Gus was back at my breast. As the midwives left at about 2 o’clock that morning, Jon, Gus and I were cuddled up in bed together; as exhausted as I was, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.  I briefly thought about asking the midwife to take our picture, as we hadn’t taken any yet, but I decided against it. The moment was just too perfect, I didn’t want it interrupted by anything. But it doesn’t matter, because I think I will always remember the overwhelming love at the start of our new life with this precious little boy.

Gus's birth story (part two)

Here is part two of the story. Unfortunately for you, I have broken my internal edit button, so this is only the middle of our tale. But, as with Titanic, you know how it will turn out (quite a bit better for us than for the ship, thankfully), but the journey is exciting! Hope you enjoy it.
Part one is here, in case you need to catch up.

***

When we got back home, Jon wanted to start timing the contractions right away, but I had lots to do before the labour could start!  I had expected to have several hours of early labour where we could set up the house (we had just gotten new carpets the week before, so I needed to get those covered up!), relax together, maybe even wash some of the dishes I had neglected for the past two days ;)  But we didn’t have much time at all.  Luckily, I had already gathered all the supplies we would need, so we spent a bit of time moving things out of the bedroom, putting waterproof sheeting down, and generally getting ready. Jon had a couple of emails to send to work, to let them know that he wouldn’t be in the office that day! I called my mom and texted my best friend, Dacia, to let them know I was in labour so they could start the prayers.  Then we were finally able to settle down with some lunch (frozen burritos that I had made, which were delicious at the time, but I regretted choosing that as my lunch later!), Gavin & Stacey on the iPlayer, and a stopwatch to time the contractions. By this point, I could consistently tell when they were starting and stopping, but they still weren’t more than a little bit uncomfortable.  At one point, I was watching the show, and halfway through a contraction, started laughing.  Jon kept asking Is the contraction ended yet??, but I couldn’t tell due to the laughter.  Which just made me laugh even harder!

Finally, around 4:30, we decided that the contractions were coming regularly enough and close enough together that we should call the midwife. They still were extremely manageable, so I was a bit hesitant, but Jon convinced me that we had better make the call.  She (MW1) was actually at our local clinic but had to go to the hospital to fetch the equipment, so she said she should be at our house within an hour.  No problem, we would just keep chilling out.

Then, about 10 minutes later, I went to the toilet, and my waters broke.  It was unmistakeable—there was a big POP! and fluids squirted everywhere.  This I found really funny. For a couple of minutes, until the contractions really started increasing in intensity.  We called MW1 back to let her know the situation, but all still seemed under control.  I was feeling the pain mostly in my back, so Jon and I adopted a position whereby he sat on the birthing ball and I knelt down in front of him, using his lap or shoulders as my support. This was my go-to position throughout the labour. It seemed to be the easiest way to get through each contraction. By this time, the contractions had gotten closer together, and I was definitely feeling them. The pain wasn’t horrible, but I started to feel a LOT of pressure in my bum.  We called MW1 back, asking when she thought she would be at the house. She, of course, was stuck in traffic.  Not encouraging.  We called again 10 minutes later.  She had made it to the hospital and was on her way back, but still a lot of traffic.  Jon was getting quite anxious on the phone, so she asked if I had the urge to push.  I was hoping that the immense pressure I was feeling wasn’t an urge to push, so I told Jon no, not really, which he relayed to MW1. She said she would call MW2 and see if she could make it out to the house first, to help relieve our anxiety.

And so we waited.  Jon was very supportive, but I could hear the stress in his voice. I was trying not to give any downward pushes to relieve the pressure that was so strong. I thought that, if the baby did come this quickly, then it would probably be healthy, but I didn’t think Jon would be able to cope with the idea of catching the baby unassisted! (Secretly, I thought it would be pretty cool, since we were in the situation and the MWs were on their way, but not so cool that I tried to actively speed the process along!) The contractions weren’t lasting long—at least the part of each contraction that I had to concentrate through was only about 30 seconds long—but I didn’t get too much of a break in between. This was something that surprised me about labour, and that I kept dwelling on throughout (in my more negative moments during the labour!). I had thought that, although the contractions might be intense, I would get to relax in between. But I really didn’t have a lot of time to relax. 

After what seemed like ages (I think it was about an hour and 15 minutes or so from the time we first called MW1), both midwives arrived on our doorstep at the same time. Jon went down to let them in while I stayed upstairs, vocalising through each contraction.  And the midwives were completely calm—too much so, in my opinion! They said hello to me as they passed, bringing in all their equipment and setting it up. But they didn’t show any urgency about the situation.  I wanted them to examine me right away—the contractions felt so strong, and I just wanted to push this baby out!

Finally, they had everything set up and did an examination. Seven cm.  I could not believe it. This was very discouraging news, and I could completely understand why some women do not like to hear how dilated they are. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I felt that the contractions were so intense, that I couldn’t possibly go on for hours more until full dilation. It wasn’t that they were painful—pain was hardly ever an issue for me throughout the labour. At various points, I used water, hot water bottle on my lower back, and pressure/massage on my lower back, and that really helped with any pain.  Intense is the best word I have to describe the contractions, but not really in a good way. And pressure.  Lots and lots of pressure in my bum. And I was already getting tired—both physically and mentally.

But, obviously, I had to power through.  So I moved to the toilet while Jon got the midwives tea. (MW2 really like the tea, and at one point when I was feeling well, she asked what type it was. We said regular old PG Tips. I couldn’t figure out why she thought it tasted so nice, until I later realised Jon had put cinnamon-sugar in it!)  I chatted to MW2.  This seems strange, now. My memories go from lying/kneeling on the floor, feeling really deflated about the dilation, and then next thing I remember, I was sitting on the toilet, doing really well, having a conversation. Obviously, it is true what they say, and changing position can really help. We were talking about my waters breaking, because when they broke, there had been some red / pink liquid.  And I was still leaking red.  I asked MW2 if they knew why this was. No, not really.  I wondered if it was something I should be concerned about. You seem fine, blood pressure, temperature, etc. And baby’s heart rate is really strong and steady. So no, it doesn’t seem to warrant worrying. I asked if they thought we could stay at home. Yes, if all continues the way it is, we don’t really see a reason to transfer, even with the red.  She was really calm about it all, just a little unsure about what exactly was causing the blood. So I was relaxed too, as there didn’t seem to be any reason to worry.

So we continued with the labouring.  I went in the bathtub for a while, and Jon sprayed the shower on my back. I found this quite a good way to help with the pain/pressure in my back, but it was hard to get in the perfect position and switch positions as needed while in the tub, so I didn’t stay in there for too long.  I did give little pushes during most contractions, secretly, without telling anyone, as that really seemed to relieve the pressure that I was feeling.  All I wanted was for that pressure to diminish, and there was hardly anything I could do about it.  I didn’t think the midwives would think I should be pushing before full dilation, though, so I kept this little trick to myself ;)

Gus's birth story (part one)

I'm so excited to share with you Gus's birth story! It was such a great day for Jon and me, not only because we finally got to meet our little guy, but the whole anticipation and excitement leading up to the birth made the day a really happy one, even if the work was hard! I apparently couldn't leave any detail out and wrote a very long story, so part one is today, and you'll get the rest in the near future. Without further ado, Gus's story!

***

On Wednesday morning, Jon left the house at about 6 to go to the gym before work. As we were saying our au revoirs, I said to him, “you’ll probably be getting a call later, because I told this baby to come today!” He said he would make sure he kept his phone on in the gym, but I said that no, it probably wouldn’t be before 9. And off he went.

At around 8, I woke up to use the toilet and noticed some bright red blood as I was there.  Now, I didn’t really know what this meant, but figured bright red is never good in pregnancy.  I called up triage at the hospital, and the midwife on duty there said I should come in to be checked out.  This was possibly the worst part of the whole day.  I had no idea what this could be, and although the midwife didn’t sound urgently concerned, it definitely wasn’t normal.  Gus (as he is now known), often didn’t squirm around too much in the mornings, so I felt a few small movements, but no reassuring big sessions like I desperately wanted. I had to pack a bag to prepare for a possible labour in hospital, which I really didn’t want, but I didn’t even know at the time whether it could just be a natural labour, or if we would end up needing lots of interventions to expedite the delivery.  And I really didn’t think that Jon would be okay with a home birth even if we were given the all-clear from the hospital.  So the sum of it was, I felt that all my hopes for the day were crashing down around me and I didn’t even know if my baby was safe at the start of the day.  And Jon was an hour’s journey away in London.

So I called Jon, trying to reassure him for his journey while (unsuccessfully) holding back my own tears, called a taxi, and was off to the hospital.

I arrived at triage to be assessed.  There were two couples in front of me in line, and the midwife asked if I could wait, which I found encouraging, since she didn’t think it was an urgent situation. Plus, Jon hadn’t arrived yet.  When it was our turn to be assessed, she explained that, generally, the cervix initially opens with the mucus plug, which has both blood and mucus.  Since I had just seen liquidy blood, she would have to do an exam to see if she could see any mucus, which would confirm that it was just this mucus plug and the blood wasn’t coming from anywhere else.  First she listened to baby’s heart rate with the doppler, though, which was strong and regular--yay! But, no mucus upon examination, so I would have to go up to labour ward to be assessed and possibly be seen by a doctor. 

First she wanted to get a CTG trace of baby’s heart rate to send up to labour ward with me.  This was 20 minutes monitoring baby’s heart rate compared to any uterine activity, as it was being called at the time, since I wasn’t in established labour.  The first 10 minutes looked really good—several uterine tightenings and baby’s heart rate responding accordingly.  Second half wasn’t quite so promising—we think our little man decided to take a nap!

Up to the labour ward we went.  We were put in a home-from-home room, which is one of the hospital’s less medicalised rooms and included an en suite bathroom with a big tub. The midwife asked if she could do a vaginal exam to get an idea of what was going on. The result: I was almost four centimetres dilated, a shock to us all since I had hardly even noticed any contractions! It was not that I was completely oblivious to the contractions, it was just that I felt the tightenings with hardly any discomfort.  I had been noticing Braxton-Hicks contractions for several weeks (after one of my midwife friends pointed one out to me as it was occurring!), and I just didn’t realise that they had transitioned into “the real thing”.  Anyway, the midwife explained that the bleeding may have just been from a relatively quick initial dilation, causing trauma to the cervix. After  discussing it with the supervisor, the midwife said that they were happy for me to go back home for labour and delivery, if that was what we wanted, as long as I could assure them that I knew when the contractions were occurring and would be able to call the homebirth midwife at the appropriate time.  They just wanted to double-check that Gus was doing well first, since he had fallen asleep during the previous CTG, and monitor the contractions, so they hooked me back up to the monitor for a while.  Jon and I hung out, ate a bit of snack / lunch (since it was about noon by this time) and played a fun game whereby I would think I was having a contraction and get Jon to look at the monitor to see if I was right. (I got pretty good at it!) And we tried to decide whether we should stay at the hospital or go back home. Surprisingly to me, Jon was leaning toward home and I was leaning toward stay in hospital! I felt I had been thrown for a loop and somehow didn’t trust the labour to progress normally, since it had started the way it had. And I didn’t want to end up at home with no midwife. Plus, the room we had was fairly cosy. I just kept thinking, people don’t leave the hospital at four cm dilation, they go to the hospital at that point! But I had planned and hoped for a home birth.

Finally I decided that we would ask for another VE after the monitoring was finished (I ended up being on there for almost an hour), and if there was normal progression, I would head home.  If I had progressed more than expected, I would stay, so as to not get caught out at home.  VE was done, and dilation was about 4.5 to 5 cm—I was headed back home!

Intuition?

A lot of talk around pregnancy seems to be about intuition and body knowledge.  Natural birth advocates are often saying that a woman’s body knows what to do during labour and birth, you just need to listen to your body and follow what it is telling you.   And to an extent, I do agree: our bodies have been designed to give birth.  It is fascinating to me the differences between human birth and births among other mammals (not that I have witnessed either) and the way that the differences in our bodies (namely, that we walk on two legs but also have big brains compared to other mammals) affects how we can give birth.  Even though human babies are less mature than other primates, for example, when they are born, their relatively huge heads compared to the mother’s pelvis means that our babies have to do special turns and manoeuvres to get through the birth canal.  And no one has to teach the mom or baby how to do these.

But my real question about intuition is this: how do I know that the feeling I am having is intuition and not want I want or hope?  For instance, we did not find out via ultrasound whether this little one is a boy or a girl.  So people always ask me which I think the baby is.  And some people really have strong feelings that their little baby is one or the other, like their body knows.  Off and on during the course of the pregnancy, I have had some inklings that this baby is a girl (although most people seem to think it is a boy).  But do I think that because there is just a part of me that knows that it is a girl, or is it because part of me hopes that it is a girl? (I have this image in my mind that I will have lots of kids—good!—but all boys—scary!!!  I think my wanting a girl this time around is not so much about this particular child, but to ensure that whatever I might have in the future, at least I’ll have one little lady in the house.)   

I went to bed last night really thinking, down to my toes, that labour wasn’t far off now.  Not that it would necessarily be the next day (and it hasn’t started yet!), but that there wouldn’t be too many baby-free days left in our lives.  But OF COURSE this is true!  I have passed my due date—there will only be two weeks, at the most, left with this baby not out in the world.  This isn’t intuition, it is statistics (something I can rely on :) ).

I think this is what scares me about labour—although not really in a bad way, in an exciting way.  I want to be able to “listen to my body” and let it do its thing.  But when have I ever in my life had a chance to “practice” using my intuition and my body’s knowledge?   I feel like I should have been preparing for it in some way—can you teach yourself to listen to your body?  Some probably would say that you could. 

But really, I am probably just over-thinking all of this; which is, of course, the exact opposite of listening to your body and following your gut!  I have quite a mathematical, researcher-y type brain, and I want a simple equation: if x, then y.  Y is that I know that I really would like an unmedicated, intervention-free birth, and I want there to be an X to guarantee that I will be able to achieve that.  If my body and my baby know what to do, then it seems the solution would be just to let the process unfold by itself, not try to insert my rational mind into the equation.  If only it were that simple!

I am really excited about labour, though.  Intrigued about how it will pan out, what will happen.  Will it be anything like my expectations?  (I am pretty sure that answer will be no!)   I think, whether I can follow this intuition thing or not, I am preparing to have a good time with birthing my baby.  And good preparation leads to good results, right?  (Right?!?!)