I had my first meeting with a midwife today. I'm really not the midwife type, to tell you the truth. I'm highly suspicious of anyone vaguely hippie-like, and I have enough close friends and family who've had bad midwife experiences that my hackles raise at the very mention of non-hospital births. However, my OB-GYN is an amazing, amazing woman who not only comes highly recommended by, oh, everyone, she also earned my eternal loyalty by giving me both her email address and her cell phone number when I was having a minor crisis.
So pretty much anyone she gives her stamp of approval to, I trust. If I'm going to have my baby in this doctor's practice, well, midwives come with the territory, and today's seemed very soothing and knowledgeable. Yes, it irritates me when people suggest I shouldn't have already decided that I'm having an epidural. No, I don't want to read "birthing from within." How the fuck else am I supposed to birth? I'm aware of the physics of the situation. But all in all, I was grateful for the extra time she spent with me, and feel altogether more at ease with the various aches and pains that have been plaguing me since Sluggo and I started working together.
And at least I have some advice to get me on the path toward easing my outlandish terror of childbirth. Plus an appointment with a genetic counselor and some more information to help me figure out what tests are really necessary.
I was treated to yet another fabulous ultrasound today -- this one via the belly, not my ladybusiness. I mean, anything that lets me see Sluggo is great, but I like it much better without the giant plastic violation. And he looked amazing! He was floating around, pushing off from the sides of my womb like he was Kevin Bacon in Apollo 13. I got so excited, I sat up and tried to get my camera so I could videotape the ultrasound, but then realized I'd left my camera charging at home. When I laid back down, he'd gone quiet, clearly disturbed by all my squealing and contorting. Michelle (the midwife) hung out for a sec, though, and we sat verrrry quietly, and he started dancing around again. Amazing. What's he doing in there? And how could it be that he's shooting around like a ping-pong ball, and I don't feel a thing?
And really, why can't I have a home ultrasound kit? There is nothing, nothing more entertaining than watching a fig-sized creature poinging around your insides.