Four months ago I gave birth to our beautiful daughter, Evie.
Throughout the pregnancy, I was adamant to my husband and my sister that I would only have a water birth. There was no mystical reason behind this; water births are good for natural pain relief, helps with skin softening, and is a peaceful way for a baby to slip into the world.
I also chose it because of the little to no goop factor. Yes, that’s right. Goop.
I’d seen videos, and photos of goopy, sticky babies emerging and flopped onto their mother’s chests, smearing the love everywhere. I am not really into that sort of a thing. I imagined that the water would wash a fair bit of the womb juices away before bubs emerged from the water, and we would be in blissful babyland, clean and non sticky.
I also didn’t want a mirror. Who on earth wants to see your lovely self distorted, bloody, and bruised with half a head coming out of it? Not me!
When it came to d-day, I was ushered into the water birthing suite, (“She’s going straight to the pool room!”), took off all of my restricting clothes, (half warning my sister who took it all in her majestic stride) and rolled with the contractions. We had joked the day before about the possiblity of me giving birth with dolphins, and had to laugh when the thermomator in the birthing pool was in fact a small, plastic dolphin. Sadly for him, his support was not needed, and he was flung out of the pool after 3 hours because he bumped me one too many times. Good thing this was not in the wild, I don’t think I would have had the strength to throw a fully grown dolphin.
During labour, Evie got stuck, and I was exhausted after pushing for 5 hours. I was moved to a delivery suite, (somehow I walked my half nudie self across the hall), and crawled up onto the bed. Stacey the midwife announced I was going to have a mirror. I, who had been so against a mirror, who thought it a little creepy, paused for a second, and said “Fine, but I don’t want to look.” Stacey, my husband Jonny and my sister Hannah, encouraged me until I peered down when I pushed. All of a sudden, I could see a glimpse of my daughter. Such a tiny glimpse, but a glimpse which gave me the determination and hope that I needed to do this. I watched my body open, I marvelled, I had a sense of excitement: my body was working for my baby.
Her wee little head came out, and Stacey beamed and said joyfully, “Here is your baby!” I reached down and delivered the last half of my little Evie, my hands covered in goop, in sticky baby, in blood. They helped her onto my chest, where she latched on, and I was mesmerized as she fed, not noticing the mess. (However I did notice when she pooed all over my chest, but it truly didn’t matter.)
Since that day, I have been up to my elbows in things that seem to leak out of every orrifice. I’ve had wee all over me, vomit (always on the days after I wash my hair), explosive poo down my thighs and drool on all of my clothes. But I don’t mind all of those. She can’t help it, my role is to be there for her, as my mum was there for me, through all the smelly and gooey bits.
I must be honest, I do struggle a little with boogers still. Evie was feeding a couple of weeks ago, sneezed, and freaking HUGE booger landed right next to my nipple. (I get chills thinking about it). Lucky Jonny was home and he came to my rescue!
But I think on the whole, I am doing alright with adjusting to life as a messy, goopy mother! (And loving it.)
This article was written by Beck Hendropurnomo. If you would like to write for the Lose Baby Weight site please click here for details