You may or may not know that I'm very interested in and planning to have a rather holistic, natural birth. Per Wikipedia:
Holistic health refers to a philosophy of medical care that views physical and mental aspects of life as closely interconnected and equally important approaches to treatment.
I'm down with whatever happens once the magical 5-36 hours of labor is actually here, and I certainly understand that there are some things for which we cannot plan. But for now, I am most certainly low-risk and confident that God gave me these wide elephant hips for some purpose. So as a result, the plan is to do as much with as little medicine as possible. And hopefully end up with a baby :-)
But more (much much much much more) on that as we move forward, ad nauseum probably. Let me tell you about the birthing stool.
Occasionally I catch "A Baby Story" on TLC. Okay, that's a lie. Before I started working, I was catching it every single day, both the 9am and 2pm showings, and sometimes recording it in order to have something with which to scare Saby. Since they only shoot in NYC and New Jersey, a LOT of the births are attended by the same midwives, doctors, and hospital staff. Now Roxy, the jovial red-headed midwife was attending a particularly independent-minded couple's home birth. I tuned in as Roxy is huffing and puffing up a rickety wooden staircase carrying her kit and something that looked like a wooden spider. A BIRTHING STOOL!
My brain shot backwards to probably 2004 or 2005, when I went with Kristine to a BBQ at her good friend Shannon's house. Shannon was some 3 or 4 months pregnant, and had a neat little house somewhere along Telegraph Road. I'm not sure if she was really in to antiques or just really into being pregnant, but at some point her nice husband walked into the living room with that same wooden spider thing. The three legged thing was announced to be a birthing stool and looked something like this:
(perhaps Shannon's was a Quaker birthing stool, as it lacked the snazzy clover embellishments)
Now, seeing that on TV reminded me of how we all had a good laugh taking turns sitting on it. But despite being probably 100+ years old, it was COMFORTABLE. Even back then with Spampy just a tiny twinkle in my eye. Between midwife Roxy and the now vivid memory, I realized that I wanted one for myself.
Fortunately my parents just happen to be currently vagabonding through the antique capital of the US, northern Florida. So I called my mother's cell to see if she could keep her eye open for the strange old contraption. Voice mail. Ahhhh, damn. Dialed up my Aunt Kathy in Lake City, their last known location. Aunt Kathy was happy to speak with either me or my sister, since she can't really tell us apart over the phone. My identity verified, we chatted about her birthday dinner and then I got down to business:
Me: Well, I was calling because I wanted to see if my parents were going to do any antiquing while they were in Florida.
Aunt Kathy: Ohhh, sure, they're headed to Larry's now, but I'm sure they will at some point. Why? What do you want?
Me: (impressed by Aunt Kathy's immediate deduction that I wanted something) Well, I wanted them to look for a birthing stool for me.
Aunt Kathy: [dead silence] we have one.
From here the conversation broke down into mostly her absolute astonishment that a.) I wanted a birthing stool and b.) I was actually considering USING a birthing stool, and then the realization that if both a and b were true, combined with the fact that she had one, that c.) it would be her birthing stool I'd be using.
Actually, Uncle Bill's birthing stool. It's apparently from Spain, from some great aunt of his. They said they'd send it back north with my parents, and have made me promise that should I no longer need/want it, that I not throw it out but return it to them. In turn I tried to express my gratitude while at the same time making it clear that if they were uncomfortable with the idea of it actually getting used, that they could definitely say no...
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how I'm acquiring a birthing stool.
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