Homebirther Done Bad

Open mouth.  Insert foot.

Open mouth. Insert foot.

I recently went to the podiatrist for some “work”.  (I’ll spare you the details.  Keep eating your lunch.)  The procedure is something I’ve endured before but this recent development is worse ten-fold and I’m dreading the treatment.  The doctor talked about my pain management options and recommend dragging the treatment out – less pain but for a longer period – but I really want this problem gone.  I found myself responding, “Well Doctor, since I’ve had a homebirth I’m not scared of pain . . .

and with those words I became the homebirthing asshole that gives homebirth a bad name.  Gah.  Sorry peeps.

What I meant was that I have pushed my body to the greatest extreme and came out on the other side.  I am capable of enduring discomfort.  I have full confidence in my body and mind.  What I meant was “Do it. Leave the pain to me.”  What I meant was “If I’ve got to labor through to a healthy foot – let it be quick.  I’ll be all right.”

Instead I had to bring birth in to the mix.  My doctor, herself a mother of two, was not impressed and rightly so.  Oh well.  Farrah was with me and her cheerful gurgling won me great favor, but clearly

I got off on the wrong foot.

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