Monday, April 13, 2009

Margarita, por favor.

While cleaning up my desktop tonight I discovered a few things.

1. bulbous, pregnant belly+laptop computer in bed= type-o city and a mean case of carpal tunnel.
2. I have a mysteriously downloaded file named Birth Plan precariously stamped on my desktop.

So as I am dragging and dropping random things into my trendy iTrash icon, and filing things into places they really don't belong just to call myself organized... I click on this Birth Plan template to see if it's iTrash or iNot.

It's just a list of questions and some long blank spaces for my answers that apparently I'm supposed to fill out and give it to a nurse when I get to the hospital so they know my wishes for labor and delivery to try and make the whole experience more comfortable for me.

As if the word comfortable has ever been uttered in a sentence spoken by a woman who has just given birth. Unless she's saying, "I'd be more comfortable if you'd sew the damn thing up and get all these people to stop hovering around my lady parts."

Here are the options I have according to the Florida Hospital Maternity Center:
Managing Pain:
Breathing techniques- Thanks, but no - I've been perfecting my own breathing technique for thirty years now and I'm pretty good at it. No instruction necessary. PASS.

Relaxation techniques- I'll only consider relaxing a part of child birth when they bring you a margarita after it's all over. PASS.

Walking, if possible- So you're saying I have the option to exercise while I'm in labor. PASS. Unless there's a bar down the hall from the maternity department where I can score that margarita.

Warm shower- is it a tequila shower? no? PASS.

Massage- Now this is a good one. I can tell you how many times I've asked my husband to give me a massage in the past seven or so months and it's actually happened.* It rhymes with hero. CHECK. I'll take that massage.

Birth ball- I always see ladies on television shows about labor and delivery trying these out. Slowly rolling. Slowly bouncing. I'd like to try it, but I want a "fresh" ball, if you know what I mean. CHECK.

Music- I actually want my husband's Zune confiscated for the entire process. No more playing bubble breaker while I complain about being uncomfortable. Hear my painnnnn. PASS.

Pain medication- CHECK. Two, please.

Epidural anesthesia- I'll let you know after the pain medication and the margarita.


The following statement best describes how I feel about pain medication:

It goes on with questions about who you'd like attending the birth and supporting you etc. (don't worry, all of your invitations are in the mail...) And any special requests, concerns or fears you have can be written down for review by the nurses.

I barely remember the details about having my daughter five (point five) years ago and I can appreciate the hospital offering options to make the whole ordeal go more according to my own plans. Which, after consideration, I have simplified to the following list:

List for actual birth plan:

1. don't die
2. don't poop

* JG- I'm still convinced you try to give me really bad massages (i.e. pinching my shoulders repeatedly) so I will just stop requesting them. This is a common trick men use to get out of doing stuff they're not into and I am aware of it. I watch reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond, too.

1 comment:

Mme Paulita said...

My husband gives me massages anytime I want them because sex happens right after...I ohhh and ahhhh like it is some type of foreplay

and by this post...mamma wants a margerita