In 2 days, I will be delivering my first child, a girl, by cesarean. Her name will be Sagan, named after the great Carl Sagan, a man that my husband and I find to be very inspiring.
Until I learned that she was breech, I planned to have a natural birth. By natural, I mean I wanted to do it the way billions of women for millions of years have done it; by gritting their teeth, screaming until they were hoarse, and pushing out a baby without the aid of painkillers. This isn’t because I’m some kind of superwoman, or because I have a high tolerance for pain, or because I am brave. Quite the opposite, actually. It’s because I am terrified of having an epidural. Seriously, I’ve been having all sorts of dreams about it. Not one of them has been pleasant. I have a very irrational fear that I will end up paralyzed. I know it’s irrational, but I can’t shake it. So I’ve been pacing Sagan’s room, cleaning things that are already cleaned, and self-medicating with Charleston Chew like it’s Brooklyn in the 50’s.
Today I wrote a post on the baby’s blog. Yes, we… Read the rest