I have birthed (vaginally) six children. I’ve laboured six times. The sixth time I had gas. I’ve heard some people rave about gas but for me it kind of sucked. I sucked down on it anyway because what if it was actually WORSE without the gas but it still was craptabulous. Anyway, the first time I gave birth I was like, “OMG that was the most painful thing EVAH.” because truthfully prior to that the most painful thing I’d experienced was a grazed knee. Seriously, I never got period pain. I never had had a headache. I didn’t suffer from so much as a stomach cramp. I’d never even had chicken pox. So yeah, it hurt. But by the second time I was pretty effective at labouring. The third time was pretty damn easy despite a posterior (back ache) labour. Fourth time round there was more back ache. But the fifth time – when I birthed at home – it became obvious to me – who knows what MY labours and births feel like, that something in my own physiology had changed and my back hurt very very very bad. Towards the end it just felt like a vice like grip had me around the lower back. Because I had never experienced that before I panicked and made it worse. By the time I was pregnant with littlebird I knew two things – 1) that I would most likely have the same pain this time and 2) I was going to go to hospital and have an epidural at the very very first sign that I might go into labour. So convinced was I that I was getting that epidural that I asked the obstetrician the first time I saw him to write on my notes that I wanted it. I don’t want to try gas first. I don’t want to ‘wait and see’ or ‘give it an hour’. GIVE ME AN EPIDURAL. NOW.
I reiterated my wishes when I first presented for induction. And again at the start of the induction. And then at the shift change. But by the time the anaesthetist got there and set it up it was too late. I knew it was too late. In my heart of hearts I knew that I was at very least 8cms. I suspected 9cms. But I wanted that epidural so badly that I told myself no way. I was sure to only be 6cms. Surely. When they announced I was fully dilated I cried. The entire time I was pushing I turned to my husband and said to him, “Can you BELIEVE I’m doing this without and epidural AGAIN!?”
So yeah. I’ve done that six times.
So WHY is it that I every time I bikini wax I wish almost as fervently as I did that day for an epidural? I put off a bikini wax. I put it off until it’s so darn unruly that even I cannot stand it another second and then I nuke the wax in the microwave, shut the bathroom door and tackle it.
I like to sing to try to ‘distract’ myself.
It doesn’t work.
What it sounds like is this…
“I see a little silhouetto of a man, scaramouch, scaramouch-HOLYMOTHEROFGOD! OH MY GOD. HHHHHAAAA SHIT……will you do the fandango. Thunderbolts and lightning very very fright- AH FUCK! OH MY GOD! Gallileo, Gallileo,Gallileo, Gallileo, Gallileo Figaro – magnificooooooooowhy do I do this to myself.”
So I’m right at that stage where I’m gearing up to do some bathroom singing but haven’t quite got there yet. I’m taking a shower earlier on tonight and littlebird has accompanied me because we’ve spent the day walking around a Rail Museum and I’m too tired to do a bath for her. She is happily playing with the pumice stone and avoiding getting water in her eyes when she turns to me and points to my groin and exclaims, “EWWWW, YUCK!”
Confidence? Sky high.