Push, Push, PUSH!!

I can remember how excited I was when I became pregnant with my oldest son Paul.

“I am going to take Lamaze classes,” I told anyone who would listen. “I’m going to give birth NATURALLY, WITHOUT THE AID OF DRUGS. After all, the native Indian women in Brazil squat behind a bush to give birth, and if THEY can do it, SO CAN I!”

“Might be tough finding a bush to squat behind,” my good friend Marlene said scathingly. “Last time I looked, I didn’t see a single bush in the hospital.”

“Aw you’re just jealous because YOU had an epidural when YOU had Tim.”

“Ha!” she said. “Just you wait – by the time you’re in the final stages of labour, you’ll be BEGGING them to give you anything at all.” She looked thoughtful. “No, make that stage 2.” She paused again. “Hm no, make that the very minute you go into labour and have your first twinge.”

Such a skeptic – I’d show her! Marlene was pregnant with her second child, but it was early days for her, while I was 4 months preggers.

I couldn’t wait to start my Lamaze. I enrolled and was told, to my bitter disappointment, that I had to wait until I was 6 months along in my pregnancy. I thought that was completely unreasonable – I was ready to start NOW.

Finally the big day arrived when I could attend my first Lamaze class and get myself geared up for natural childbirth.

Sporting a nice little bump, I joined a group of around 20 other women, who were in various stages of pregnancy – of course, I compared bumps – what woman wouldn’t? Several of the Mums-to-be had bigger tums than I did, and I felt decidedly jealous of them. One Mum’s tum was truly huge, and I only felt a wee bit better about it when she’d told me she was expecting twins. Well no wonder she looked like she’d swallowed a watermelon!

The Lamaze teacher (a Brit woman with a toffee accent) welcomed us all in a hearty, jolly-hockey-sticks manner. She gave us a pep talk which I lapped up like a thirsty puppy.

“Childbirth is a NATURAL function. In the normal circumstances, you will all give birth to healthy babies, and you will enjoy the experience of giving life! There’s nothing quite like it!” she exclaimed, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

I lifted my hand.

“Yes?” she asked, eyebrows arched.

“But won’t it HURT?” I asked.

This was not a good question to ask. “Depends on how you control your breathing,” she said. “It’s uncomfortable, yes, but bearable.”

“How uncomfortable?” I asked being one who likes details.

“We will get to that eventually” she said briskly.

Hm, I didn’t like the sound of that at all. I felt she was hedging.

“Have you had any children?” I asked (always have asked awkward questions – born that way.)

She looked very annoyed. Her nostrils flared making her look like an irate horse, and she went an interesting shade of red.

“Well … no I haven’t, but I have assisted in a great many pregnancies and delivered babies myself, so I do know what I am talking about.”

“Now ladies, I want you all to sit down on the mats in front of you, then carefully roll over onto your hands and knees.”

We all obeyed, looking for all the world, as if we were mooning everyone at large – large being the operative word. The lady expecting twins was directly in front of me, so I had a full view of her bottom which was not an inspiring sight. I hoped mine wasn’t as… vast… as hers.

“Now ladies,” bellowed our instructor, sounding like a sergeant major ordering the troops. “Pull in your babies, PULL IN YOUR BABIES!”

We all pulled in our babies like the very dickens, and suddenly the twin’s Mum directly ahead of me let out the most resounding fart I’ve ever heard in my entire life! It bounced around the walls like thunder echoing around mountains.

We all burst out laughing. The poor woman went scarlet and apologized profusely, poor soul. We all reassured her it wasn’t her fault, and we proceeded with our class. However, one or other of us would remember and start giggling, which would set us all off again. Oh dear.

I learned everything there was to know about childbirth. The panting, the pushing, the deep breathing induring contractions … I was a pro by the end of the course. Yep, I was READY! I was going to give birth NATURALLY.

Paul took his own sweet time making his debut. Overdue – waaay overdue. My obstetrician didn’t believe in inducing labour. “Let nature takes its course” was his credo. Well I wished bloody nature would get a move on then, because I was as big as a house, Paul was sitting directly on my bladder and it made for a well beaten path to the loo day and night.

Mum had flown over from Brazil to give me a hand, bless her. “Mum, this baby is NEVER going to be born,” I wailed in despair.

“Oh yes he or she will,” Mum patted my tum reassuringly.

I decided I had to do something to get things moving. I challenged my husband and next door neighour, Larry, (who’d dropped by to see how I was doing) to ping pong (table tennis) matches. I played a total of 6 sets against both of them, beat them in every match, and went off to bed that night, hoping for the best. (It was a humiliating experience for the guys to get badly trounced by a hugely pregnant lady, 6 times. Of course, they claimed they’d felt sorry for me and allowed me to win. Huh, what a fib – I won fair and square.)

Well, it did the trick! At 7.00 a.m. the following morning, I had my first contraction. Well, about bloody time, and all! Off we went to the hospital.

Marlene was wrong – I didn’t beg for an epidural with the first contraction – it must’ve been… oh … at least a dozen contractions later!