Close Your Eyes, Children!

There will be no picture today, kids; trust me, you wouldn't want to see one anyway.

This past weekend Tim & I had another one of our parenting classes. I could tell you about all things that might have frightened me but didn't (the contraction charts, the dilation diagram, and a baby mannequin traveling through a pelvis model). Instead, I'll tell you about the one thing that made me clench my teeth.

For the first time in my life, I saw a birthing video. If they showed this video to 9th graders, this country would never have another teen pregnancy. The women in the video went from excitement (during the light stage of labor), to tense concentration (early second stage), to a sad and desperate state (right before delivery). As they huffed and puffed, I felt so much pity for them. They hurt so much they didn't cry. It's hard to understand what pain like that is. Finally came a scene right out of every alien/monster movie ever made: the crowning.

Crowning is when the baby's head first breaks out of the mother. I could not--repeat, could not--believe how large the opening in the mother was. Apparently, none of the men in the room could believe it, either. They all looked uncomfortable, and there was a collective shaking of heads (with a hint of joy) as each thought, "I'm glad it's you and not me." The baby exited the woman's body, though it seemed physically impossible. The mother's instant reaction was classic and honest. She said, almost questioningly, "But that doesn't look like a baby." I agreed.

After the birth, I sat there, clinging to Tim's arm. The instructor said to the class, "If you'd like to see your baby crown, the nurses will offer to put a mirror up during your delivery."

What? Seriously, what? No thanks, ma'am; if I want to see a horror film, I'll pay the ridiculous $8.50 fee at the movie theater.

Tim rubbed my back and tried to be comforting, but we both knew the truth of the matter, and there wasn't much left to say.