on modesty

I may have had a more *ahem* wild time when I was in my twenties. I may have been more free and indulged what could be called an exhibitionist streak and lived very publicly online. But I got old and married, and became a more private person. But there's nothing like having a baby to pull yourself out of any self imposed notion of modesty or propriety.

To start there is the beautiful business of baby making. Sometimes it takes more business than others. Sometimes it takes a lot of business. But it's hard to be modest when you're checking the gauges regularly and really trying for it. But that's not even what I'm talking about.

As a pregnant lady you get accustomed to dropping trou for your doctor and/or midwife on a regular basis. And as times goes on your visits become a little closer together- really warming you up to the idea of showing a host of medical staff your goodies. Although by the last trimester you can't see them over the giant belly anyway, so at least there's that bit of added privacy built right in to the situation.

I took a birthing class at a local place. It was a bit hippy dippy for me; held in the back of a pilates studio by a doula. Considering that all I knew about birth I learned either in 9th grade biology class or self taught out of handy 'what to expect' type books.... I guess you could say I needed a class. I knew where babies came from and how they were made (thanks miracle of life!) but it seemed like a good idea to learn the stages of labor, and pain coping techniques and different situations I might encounter.

What I did learn is that it's difficult to meditate while chewing gum and not being able to hear the very quiet instructions on meditation were not in fact relaxing but incredibly stress inducing. I learned that holding ice for an extended period of time is actually pleasant when I was swollen and looking to relieve my carpel tunnel - not quite what the instructor had in mind with the breathe through the discomfort exercise. I learned that Todd and I don't have a special favorite place in which to creatively visualize ourselves in times of duress.

Also, I learned that I actually have a lot of puritanical WASPy shame/body issues. You see, we watched a few birth videos and they were exactly like you'd expect. A little dated, but full of information. Lots of clips of ladies of all sorts grunting and pushing and bouncing on their birthing balls or waddling along with their partners. I decided pretty immediately that I didn't want to give birth on an office chair while leaning into/sitting on my husband's lap as I saw one woman do. Water birth didn't seem to be so bad, I liked water. But mostly I had to stifle uncomfortable giggles as voice overs proclaimed the women to be wise and beautiful and knowing. We watched the short film 'Birth Day' about a Mexican midwife who delivers her third child at home in her hot tub with her family surrounding her and without any other help. If there was anything I was sure I did not want it was to be without any medical help, or naked on camera, or swimming with my naked family in a pool of afterbirth. And especially all of that together rolled into one. (Although at least those little boys in 'birth day' weren't going to grow up and have any of the hangups I quite clearly had.)

After each movie the doula asked, "How did that make you feel?". Uncomfortable. Embarrassed. Prudish. Awkward. But by the time I was in the hospital I was ready to show my bits and bobs to anyone who'd help get the little bugger out of me. I hardly even was able to give any thought to the fact that it was a teaching hospital, and that a very nice nurse was using my vagina as a teaching opportunity ('So this is how you place a catheter'). And by the time the baby was out I was well used to the revolving cast of strangers checking out my lady lumps.

Getting the baby to latch while breast feeding gave each nurse the chance to show me how they thought it should be done. And yes, each nurse had a little different take on it. So many people just got in there and grabbed my boobs, it was like madi gras or spring break. And now, 9 months later I'd still rather not show the class the girls if I can help it. Not because of any shame in nursing my son, but because I'd really rather keep milky mountain to myself and a select few others.

And being a stay at home mom it's been difficult for me to shower without having company most of the time (unless I get up very early, or want to shower very late in the day). Soon I am sure I'll not even be able to pee alone thanks to an increasingly mobile little boy who is about to hit his separation anxiety stage. I'm sure it'll continue to be an adventure and experience, no matter how exposed I may or may not be.