A few days ago I was whining because I was unable to schedule an appointment at the midwife I would like to have as my prenatal caregiver any earlier than August 20.  Which would have been a bit late for scheduling a lot of the tests I’ll need done because of my age.  This morning I was able to find an earlier appointment, which takes a load off my mind.

Someone asked me to go into why I was so set on having a midwife, so here it goes:

I’m a hippy.  Born 20 years too late, and probably a bit too cynical anyway, but I’m a back-to-the-lander at heart.  A less-is-more type.  I’m a big believer – current medical-care status notwithstanding – in the ability of the human body to do all sorts of things to take care of itself under normal circumstances.  I don’t see a doctor – or at least I didn’t until this last year – at all regularly, and I’m healthy as a horse.  I don’t take cold medicine.  I don’t take painkillers.  I eat healthily, I exercise, and I trust my body to let me know if something’s really wrong.  But until then, if it aint broke…

Now, NYC (& probably most of the country) is chock full of people who view pregnancy as something dire and terrifying.  Either that or a major inconvenience which should be managed as closely as possible in order to allow for the schedules of everyone: mother, OB, even the night nurse who would rather not deal with an actively laboring mother at 2am when 10pm would be so much more convenient.  

As an aside, my sister-in-law scheduled an elective C-Section so that her labor would not interfere with a birthday party she wanted to throw for her father.  Filial duty aside, I was horrified.  (Then I was secretly delighted when my nephew decided to show up on his own time-table, making all talk of elective C-Sections moot.)

Not. For. Me.

Now, in a perfect world, my RE would just this month be finishing up his OB internship for a mid-career change, and I could just segue smoothly into his care for the remainder of this pregnancy.  But that aint gonna happen.  And with my luck, I’d manage to find myself under the care of another Herr Bigshot, which would just grate my ass. And who needs that kind of stress, I ask you?

So given who I am and how I have lived my life, I would prefer a caregiver who goes into the process assuming that pregnancy and birth are natural processes that should be assisted, not managed.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  Something goes wrong with this birth, I want them to slice me open ASAP and haul that kid out by the heel before slapping her into a state-of-the-art incubator and enough monitors to drain the power from a medium sized city.  Something goes wrong with this pregnancy and I want every bit of modern medicine at my beck and call!  But, if nothing goes wrong, if it’s a run o’the mill pregnancy & birth, I’d just as soon do it myself, thanks anyway.  I will be (gods willing) delivering in the birthing rooms at a Manhattan hospital, attended by my midwife and my husband, with all the resources of a major medical center at the ready, should we need it.

And if we don’t, we’ll be left alone.

Midwives tend to stay through the whole birth process, instead of just dropping in to catch the baby.  I really like this priority, and given my mixed track record with medical professionals, I’d like to know 6 months ahead of time if I can’t stand the person who’s going to be with me for the most stressful time of my life.  If I hate her, I know I’d hate her while laboring, and so I can switch next month instead of jsut taking what I’m handed.  It’s a wonderful benefit to a midwife-assisted birth, but because of this commitment, they can have scheduling issues, which is why it’s important to get into midwife care at the beginning of one’s pregnancy.  There are several highly recommended midwives in the area, but I got a great feeling from these ladies when I talked to them last year, and one of them delivered an IVF baby when she was 41, so I feel like I won’t be picking up on any AMA-vibes at their office.  

And that, in short, is why I’m hoping to have a midwife-assisted birth sometime in the first week of March, and why I was so delighted to get an appointment in my 9th week at the office I’ve been hoping to get into.  

Feeling all smug now, like I accomplished something already this morning, and it’s only 10:30 on a day I slept til 8:30.  Small goals are good.  Attainable.  Done.

Only 3 weeks til my first appointment at a normal-lady place.  How exciting is that?