The pregnancy manual has been so well consulted that it is nearly falling apart. Despite this, I have not been able to read the chapter on labour. My throat dries up and tears start to build behind my eyes just imagining labour. It’s ridiculous how scared I am. But it’s now or never.
‘Oh my God’! I slam the book shut in disbelief.
‘Whats up hon.?’ asks Special Bloke running into the room dropping the dimmer switch he’s fitting in the baby’s room.
‘I’m reading the chapter on labour and…’
‘Its ok Daisy. I know it’s freaking you out. You will be ok. I’ll be with you all the way’ Special Bloke reassures me, stroking my hair.
‘No, its not that! Listen to this line from the book ‘Don’t worry if you defecate on the delivery table’. Can you believe that? I might poo in front of other adults while they are literally looking up my rear end.’ Ha, ha I laugh semi-hysterically. ‘This is just not funny. How the hell am I going to get through this? I bawl like a baby while Special Bloke rocks me and holds me close.
‘I’m really shitting myself about the birth’ I confide. Special Bloke looks tenderly into my eyes and before you know it we begin to giggle hysterically like some naughty kids in the back of class.
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