Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Birth Plan: Addendum

Please don't misunderstand me.  If you want a home birth and you have an awesome (and experienced) midwife, that's awesome!  Go you!  It is absolutely your right to choose that, and I applaud you. 

Birth Plan

I read a lot of blogs.  A LOT.  Some of them have to do with giving birth, and the majority of those involve home births.  I've also read a lot of horror stories about home births--stories about unlicensed midwives, women calling themselves midwives with no actual formal training, mothers who are so anti-Western medicine that they refuse to go to a hospital, midwives who don't call emergency services when the mother's labor extends more than 24 hours, babies who die, mothers who die, mothers who are so hung up on their perfect birth plan that they can't handle the idea that something might (and often does) go wrong.  I've read about awesome home births and tragic home births.  I've read about educated, caring, professional midwives who know when something is beyond their abilities, and I've read about midwives who insist they're right at the expense of a life.

Here's the thing.  Even though I'm not married nor am I pregnant, I am automatically going to have a high-risk pregnancy just because of my age.  I'm in uncharted territory at this point.  My cousin a couple of years older than me had her last baby (now 1 year old, fat and sassy) at great risk to him and to herself and will not be able to have more children.  My direct female relatives were done having children for various health reasons by the time they were 35.  I have no idea what is going to happen when I'm pregnant.  Things could be smooth and wonderful, or I could end up on bed-rest for six months.  I could have four healthy children, or one child with a birth defect, or none at all.   

I won't know until it happens.

My response to all those heartfelt (and sometimes psychologically/emotionally bullying) birth plans I read about is short and simple:

My birth plan, should I be lucky and blessed enough to actually have one, is to bring a baby into this world alive.  I will do anything it takes to bring a living, healthy baby into this world.  If that means my mom moves in with me while I'm on bed-rest, so be it.  If that means I'm in a hospital for eight weeks, hooked up to all kinds of equipment, consider it done.

And don't you dare try to bully or shame me into thinking I'm somehow a bad person for making this decision.