Not What I Was Expecting

The PBS series “Call the Midwife” is back for its 8th season. I’ve been a fan since the beginning, and watching it on Sunday, brought me back to the birth of my first child. He was born in the heyday of natural childbirth. We practiced breathing and relaxation exercises in weekly classes with our “coaches.” Somehow, the actual experience wasn’t quite the piece of cake I was led to believe:

I shut my eyes tight,

I want the car to stop.

Let me out!

Someone else can have this baby.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure, I’m just peachy.”

10 minutes apart.

5 minutes apart.

3 minutes, no minutes.

One continuous wave.

So many people in the room.

I’m alone.

I’m in a movie.

She’s talking to me.

Don’t push.


Stop telling me what to do.


Gumby-headed baby boy Dougherty.


9 thoughts on “Not What I Was Expecting

  1. I love mid-wife shows, although I am not watching this one. Both my boys were born without pain meds; Liam’s was a water birth, complete with a midwife and doula. Best decision ever. In a hospital, just in case.


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