What Goes In Must Come Out

Most shy people cherish their privacy. I can’t think of any greater invasion of privacy than giving birth.

When labor first begins, there are spaces between the pains where you can catch your breath, and you think maybe you can pull this off like a lady; suffer in silence and maintain a shred of dignity.

But it overruns you; the pains get harder and last longer, and suddenly there is this huge object in your body trying to squeeze through a space that is way too small, and you know that when and if this thing finally comes out, it is going to drag all your guts out with it.

And there you are, under the bright lights, center stage with your privates hanging out for all to see, and all you can think is, I’ve got to get this OUT of me!

The birth of a baby is a miracle; don’t get me wrong. I still get choked up when I see a brand new person come into the world. Only nine months before, it was a single cell—how does that happen?

But why in the world would a woman put herself through that experience again, if she lives through it the first time? For thousands of years, women have been enduring the pain and indignity of childbirth. AND THEN WE FORGET! God must have built that amnesia into us to keep us reproducing—a mean trick. We fall head over heels in love with this little human who just caused us so much pain, and we instantly forget how much it hurt.

Until the next time.

Labor is different for every woman, and for every baby as well. But it is all a variation on a theme: uterine contractions that intensify as they occur closer and closer together. A weird stage called “transition” as the baby’s head enters the birth canal and your body has no idea what to do with it. Then the pushing stage, which one author of a book on pregnancy described as “shitting a watermelon.” (Crude, but it is what it is.)

If you’re shy, you don’t like to “lose it” in front of people. Accept it—you are probably going to lose it at some point in your labor, and that’s OK. What happens in the labor room stays in the labor room! But here are some ways I’ve found to help you stay on top of the pain for as long as possible:

• Avoid pain meds. They don’t really do much for the pain, and they mess with your head. You will need a focused mind for the ordeal ahead. An exception would be an epidural, which is usually safe and takes away the pain entirely—except for the potential of one frightening side effect, a sudden drop in your blood pressure. If you can possibly bear it, go natural.

• Walk around during the early stage of labor, as long as you can stand it. Walking keeps you and the baby in a good position for the strenuous act of childbirth, and helps you relax.

• Meditate during contractions. For my last two babies, I had a verse from the Psalms, and focused entirely on the image of that verse as I recited it in my mind. As long as I stayed focused, I could get through each contraction, one at a time, during the first stage of labor. If you picture the contraction as a line on a graph, all you really have to do is get through the peak, and then it’s downhill from there. Introverts have an inborn ability to create vivid mental images, and if there is ever a time to use that gift, it is during labor.


• Breathing really does help. Long deep breaths in early labor help you focus and give your body the oxygen it needs for the big job ahead. Panting, shallow breaths during the end of the first stage and through transition give you a way to stay on top of the pain, which by that time is starting to feel like a runaway train bearing down on you. It is about this point that you may start to panic a little; you’re tired, the pains keep coming and they hurt more, you don’t know how much more of this you can stand. Keep reminding yourself, “One at a time, one at a time…” There IS an end to it. Focus on getting through one contraction at a time.

• When it’s time to push that baby out, you will know it. The doctor or midwife may check to make sure that the cervix is fully dilated, because you don’t want to start pushing too early. When you get the all-clear signal, then you have to push hard with each contraction--hence the word “labor.” And it hurts. I took Lamaze classes with my first baby, and somehow picked up the idea that the pain was less when it was time to push. In my case, it actually hurt much more to push, and that was the point where I “lost it.” Everyone was chanting, “Push!” and I was screaming, “NO!” because as bad as the pain was, pushing made it worse. (Your experience may be completely different, but be prepared for anything.)

Eventually, that baby is coming out. You can’t fight it. It really is better to bite the bullet and push with all your might with each contraction. It hurts, it’s scary, you can’t believe your body will ever recover from this experience…but when you hold that warm, slimy baby for the first time and look at the face of this little stranger who shared your body for nine months, you know without question that every moment was worth it.

And you’ll probably do it again.