First time, second time

Of all my four children, it's my second child's birth that is my favorite. His birth showed me how strong I can be, and set the stage for all my other childbirth experiences.

With my first, I had no idea what I was doing, even though I read all the right books (What to Expect When You're Expecting, was one) and planned for a natural, medical-free birth. Actually, I was ready to ditch my obstetrician for a home birth until pre-term labor at 23 weeks squashed that dream. The pre-term  labor put me on bed rest for three months and daily medication to control contractions. When I did finally have my daughter, my dream birth became almost a nightmare.

The doctor played catcher, a nurse flanked each side of "home plate" and a plethora of other doctors, and specialists, all strangers to this half-naked modest, first-time mom, lined up in a row to watch behind them.

Kind of like a Little League team anxious in the dugout. Keeping their eye on the ball - except the ball was me.

Worst of all, I couldn't feel anything below my waist, the epidural worked too well on me. Doctor Baby Catcher, with his vacuum extractor gizmo, had to reel her in like a fish on a line not wanting to be hauled onto shore. Thus, my beautiful baby girl had a conehead.

Seventeen months later, I was ready for Baby 2. I read better books (with me, it's all about the books), I switched hospitals and found midwives who pledged to help me have the natural birth I wanted. No more conehead baby for me.

I wanted to give birth - not have my baby removed from my body by someone else.

So when my water broke that morning in December, I did what this book recommended. I breathed deeply, I relaxed. I soaked under a stream of a hot water shower. I rocked in a glider in the quiet corner of the birthing suite saying the only prayer I could manage. Jesus. Jesus.

Finally I climbed into the bed, the contractions more frequent and powerful, but I refused to let it sweep me away into a panic like I did with my daughter. The only person I didn't know in the room was the nurse helping my midwife, and it was okay because she was actually helping, not just a passive observer.

And when my first son came into the world right before noon, I was jubilant. I did it. I conquered the pain, letting my body do what it was designed to do. I did it! And would do it again and again. Having the birth experience I wanted gave me a feeling of power and accomplishment that no pain killing drug could ever give me.

An original New Jersey Moms Blog post. Monica likes her childbirth drug-free, but appreciates all the medication she can get while in the dentist chair. Her personal blog is Paper Bridges.