We have our first childbirth class tomorrow.  Actually it’s more than just childbirth.  It’s this series of 6 classes (we may have to miss one, depending on if we go out of state or not in a couple of weeks) that are all about examining your attitudes toward birth and whatnot.  I’m pretty sure I know what my attitudes are:  I would like to get Bisquito out of me with as little medical stabbing/poking/cutting as possible.  I’ve been reading a lot about the topic, about the cascade of interventions that seem innocuous enough, but more often than they ought to, lead to a c-section.

IMPORTANT THING TO SAY SO PEOPLE DON’T GET MAD AT ME:  I realize that some c-sections are done for very important medical reasons, and I’m really glad they’re available and usually quite safe.  It sure beats the alternative.

GIANT CAVEAT:  I have never given birth, and all this comes from reading and from hearing about my friends’ experiences.  I reserve the right to completely change my mind and think of Past Aprille as an idealistic fool come February.

That said, I have kind of a fundamental mistrust of MDs, particularly the OB/GYN staff at UIHC.  I worked there for a summer in college, and I gained a lot of respect for the non-MD staff (nurses, nursing assistants, midwives).  They’re the ones doing 80% of the work for 30% of the pay.

MASSIVE GENERALIZATION: MDs are good at diagnosing and treating disease.  They see a patient in pain and think, “How can I fix her?  Epidural.  Now the contractions have slowed down.  How can I fix that?  Pitocin.  Her water hasn’t broken.  How can I fix that?  I can break it manually.  Now it’s been so long since her water has broken that she’s at risk for infection.  How can I fix that?  C-section.”

I can’t really blame them—they’ve been trained in medical school to be mechanics of the human body, to fix the broken parts.  That’s incredibly important if a person needs heart surgery or diabetes treatment or a way out of an unusual birth situation.  Still, I don’t like the idea of giving birth as a broken state.  Unless there’s a serious medical complication, I could probably give birth squatting in a closet.  Letting a bunch of interventions happen takes it out of my control and turns me into a series of problems to be fixed.

Wow, that got a little rantier than I meant it to.  All I was trying to say is that we have baby class on Saturday, and after that we’re going to visit Denny’s parents.

So there.