Baby Talk

My Husband and I are talking about getting pregnant.  As is customary for me, as soon as we began discussing it seriously I raced out to the library to get books about pregnancy.  I’ve always depended deeply on the research and opinions of experts (or at least people who have experienced an event I have not) and let’s face it…knowledge is reassuring.  Libraries even smell like safety. 

So far, I’ve read the following:

·         Before Your Pregnancy: a 90-Day Guide for Couples on How to Prepare for a Healthy Conception by Amy Ogle & Lisa Mazzullo

·         What to Expect Before You’re Expecting by Heidi Murkoff with Sharon Mazel

·         Perfect Hormone Balance for Fertility: The Ultimate Guide to Getting Pregnant by Robert Greene

·         Misconceptions: Truth, Lies and the Unexpected on the Journey to Motherhood by Naomi Wolf

·         Vaginas: an Owner’s Manual by Dr. Carol Livoti & Elizabeth Topp

I found Before Your Pregnancy and Perfect Hormone Balance to be informative but a little preachy about organic foods and living.  The latter has this whole section on “biomutagens” that reads like your baby will develop horns and a tail if you use hairspray or nail polish while pregnant.  I did learn why you should cut caffeine; not only can it constrict your blood vessels and diminish flow to the baby, but your baby can come out addicted to caffeine!  So they cry and cry because they want caffeine but they have no idea what it is.  That stuff’s like crack.

What to Expect has been the Bible for pregnancy for years.  It had some useful tidbits, but half the time I felt like I was being spoken to by that youth group pastor who’s trying desperately to be cool: “Now that you’re talking baby, will you have to say ‘later’ to your morning lattes—and ‘nighty-night’ to your nightcaps (p30)?”  Ummm…yes?  “Been trying for a few months to hit baby bingo, but without success (p120)?”  It’s like every sentence ends with a pause for a recorded laugh track.

Naomi Wolf’s Misconceptions was one of the most depressing books I’ve ever read.  It chronicles her issues of losing her sense of self after becoming a mother, her traumatic and detached Cesarean section and her post-partum depression.  She also harps on American culture and its response to motherhood, race and wealth.  Don’t get me wrong, all of her points are necessary to get a full spectrum of conception and birth in the United States (I’m sure she’s frightened plenty of women into opting out of motherhood) and it wasn’t information I found in any of my other books. 

For example, did you know it’s customary for doctors to slice the perineum (the space between the vulva and the anus) down to the muscle in order to make a wider outlet for the baby during labor?  It’s called an episiotomy.  They do it to prevent a tear during birth, even though most tears are superficial and much less drastic than the surgical cut.  Most of the time an episiotomy results in increased post-partum pain and bleeding, trouble defecating and severe issues with sexual function for up to SEVEN years (p170).  Wolf instead suggests women demand massage of the perineum with something like olive oil and a slow labor to permit the perineum to stretch accordingly.  In her book she mentions some celebratory midwives who ‘caught’ (a midwife’s term for delivering a baby) “an 11lb, 4oz baby girl over an intact perineum (p171)!”

I didn’t know any of this, and you can bet because of her book I’ll be doing A LOT more research.  But chapter after chapter of heartache and milk stains and lack of appropriate health care and support was extremely wearisome.  I guess it’s just one of those things…you have to take the bad with the good.

I loved Vaginas.  I really did.  It’s written by an Ob/Gyn and her daughter in a gossipy yet informative manner.  Kind of like your favorite teacher from high school who does lessons about phenethylamine by handing out chocolate.  I liked it so much I even read parts of it aloud to My Husband (he probably appreciated it less).  Considering most of my “sexual education” consisted of a seventh-grade video in which dozens of speedoed and swim-capped men flounder erratically in a swimming pool toward a sole serene woman in an inner tube, it was kind of nice to really start to understand the inner workings of my body. 

(To be fair, my mother showed my sisters and me a video about puberty around the same time.  I had gotten the original “talk” from her years before…I was six years old…because a local boy my age had been molested by his dentist and I asked her curiously one evening what rape was.  All I remember from these discussions was thinking the whole idea of coming-of-age and conception was disgusting and I wanted nothing to do with it).

So my research continues.  I have a few more books I’d like to look up, but the REAL verdict about a baby is still to come.  I’ll never find that on a library shelf.