One of my more annoying traits (or lovable depending on who you ask) is that I can complicate the hell out of just about anything. And I mean anything. You don’t believe me? Let’s just say I can over analyze boiling an egg. So naturally, when I found out I was expecting twins I went overboard in research. Thank goodness for the Internet. I stayed up countless nights comparing strollers, video monitors, double nursing pillows and a myriad of other stuff that I felt compelled to learn everything about as if I were cramming for the biggest exam of my life. I had these two babies growing inside of me and I felt like it was my obligation to learn everything I could about what exactly to “do” with them before they arrived. There was no “learn as you go” in this prospective Mama’s head. During those precious months when time was still my own I believed information was power and I wanted to be very powerful. Everyone I knew thought I was doing too much research. They would say “stop reading and just trust your instinct.” Uh, WHAT instinct?? The bottom line for me was that this information made me feel a little more secure with my new (very daunting) reality.
I joined a Moms of Multiples club, took Bradley Birthing Classes and Birthing from Within; hired a doula and practiced prenatal yoga. If there was a class on proper burping techniques I would have signed up for it. Of course the “plan” was to deliver naturally and breastfeed both babies.
Well after 39 weeks and no signs of my little ones wanting out, my ultra liberal OB decided it was time. My “au natural” plan fell apart in a matter of seconds upon walking into Monmouth Medical Center and being hooked up to more machinery than I even knew existed. I had wires coming out every which way and monitors to measure everything except for my delicate state of mind. I felt like a human science experiment. Once the Pitocin kicked in, it was Game Over. My doula wrapped cabbage around my ankles to keep the swelling down, and as she sat in the chair across the bed from me knitting a cap for one of my boys, I couldn’t help but smile at the irony of it all. “Man plans and God laughs” and all that jazz. Although both boys were in proper position for a vaginal childbirth, I was unable to dilate so a C-section quickly became the new plan. Bring on the drugs and get thee to the operating room. How very natural, huh?
As I look back on that day, now two years later I know it was the best possible outcome for me. Max and Griffin were “delivered” in perfect condition and really, in the end that is all that matters. Before their arrival, that critical element was lost on me. It was all about how I wanted them to enter into this world, never thinking for a minute that I am not in control. This was a lesson I very much needed to learn. If Motherhood has taught me one thing it’s that following the path of least resistance is key. Most of the time you just have to go with it, whatever that “it” may be.
This is an original post for Jersey Moms Blog by Gena Lande, a New Jersey mom.
Photo credit given to Webshots.