It’s My Doula and Me

I had dinner with Nicki on Monday so that we could talk birth plans (amongst lots of other things – we haven’t had a chance to sit and chat in quite a while). Lori has teased me about my age because apparently we “old” first-time moms have a tendency to have grand and glorious visions about how we imagine childbirth will go, so we tend to show up with these intricate birth plans. Me? Not so much. No drugs, unless I need them. Position? Whatever is comfortable for me and working for the bump. Bath? Ball? Sure!

I do know who is on my team, though. That would be Nicki and Heather, obviously. But I’m not so sure I really want to call them my “team”. I mean, I’m not really a sports girl (World Cup and Olympics excepted). I’m a dancer. And I’m not just a dancer. I’m a bunhead. I’m thinking I should call them my corps de natale. But maybe I should run that by them first…

But dinner with Nicki was good and reassuring. We’re pretty much on the same page about childbirth and nursing and childrearing. We’ve both read the same information about kangaroo care and delayed cord cutting. I still have some decisions to make, but I think the final line of my birth plan will really and truly be que sera sera. Because it is true. Whatever will be will be. It doesn’t matter how grand and glorious (or not) my birth plan is. It will alter and change as needed while I’m in labor.

Now we just need to find a time for my entire corps de natale to get together. You know. For rehearsal.


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