6 Reasons Why I'm Not Scared of Giving Birth...

Here I am, in all my 38 week pregnant glory. This was last week though, so imagine me marginally more pregnant now.

This baby is very much wanted, so although I appreciate that accidents do happen, in our case it was planned and prepared for, so maybe that has something to do with my mentality. From the day I found out I was pregnant I've been excited, and haven't had many negative thoughts at all. I've had a relatively easy ride of it too, which can't hurt.

Given that I was 31 when I fell pregnant, I convinced myself and my husband that it would take a while, due to my age. And the fact that for most women, if you don't have an accident, you never know how fertile you are until you try, and that can be daunting. I also knew the stats on miscarriage, so I was quite pragmatic about the whole thing. Luckily, it only took us two months. Lord knows how. And I am fully aware of how lucky that makes us, and have never taken that for granted. In fact, that's my first reason.

1) Falling pregnant and carrying a baby to term is nothing short of a miracle.

It doesn't matter how often it happens either—whether to one couple, or in grander, worldwide terms. It's still a miracle. I still can't wrap my head around how amazing it is that two cells can create life. And how can I possibly be scared of my part in that?

This also leads to my next reason—

2) If pregnancy and birth are such miracles, that some people long for but can never have, how can you be scared about being lucky enough to have it?

I'm surrounded by strong women in my life, many of whom have suffered miscarriages or infertility for varying reasons. Some of those women now have children, some do not. But all of these women are, or would be, fantastic mothers. Being able to bear children is not a given, and so if you want a baby, and are able to carry and birth it with few complications you should count your lucky stars. So I do.

Once we had passed the 12 week mark, we had our first scan and were reassured that it really was a baby, and the baby was still there. But it wasn't until the run up to the 20 week anatomy scan that I actually had a wobble. I work closely with a local children's hospice, which means that my 'normal' isn't the same as most people's. My normal in fact, is dying children; or very sick ones, with a plethora of conditions that the average person doesn't even know exist. So at the 20 week scan, you find out what sex the baby is, but also the likelihood it will be born with or without a string of 'defects' or life limiting conditions.

So

3) The 20 week scan was all clear.

In the run up to the scan I felt dreadful, sick to my stomach with worry. I almost knew too much, so I had more to worry about. On the day, as the sonographer kindly explained each body part he was checking, I felt my heart become lighter. So, if the one thing I wanted my baby to be is healthy, how can I worry about anything else. Of course, there are so many things a scan can't see, things that won't become apparent until weeks or even years after birth. But for now, his health looks pretty good, and I'm so pleased.

I mentioned that I've had a relatively easy ride of pregnancy, and I have. My immune system took a massive hit around halfway, and I ended up on a lot of pills for about two months. I then was diagnosed with SPD. It's this awesome thing where your body prepares for labour WAY too early, and you basically end up walking round with a broken pelvis, in my case for 10 weeks. But I'm lucky—often women get it much earlier, and can end up on crutches or even in wheelchairs as their pregnancy progresses. I have managed with rest, physio, exercises, and a support belt, so I'm grateful.

However,

4) This grim pelvis thing can have its advantages.

Not only is my pelvis already separated, which means that labour can be quicker, but according to experts the pain already experienced throughout the pregnancy can actually prepare you a little for labour itself. So no, I'm not scared of the pain. I know it will be bad, but I got this baby in here, I'm going to have to suck it up and get him out somehow.

Which brings me to my next reason—

5) This shit happens every day.

Every day. I am not special, I'm no different to all the women who have gone before me and who will come after. So if all these women, all over the world can do it, I'm pretty sure I can manage. And this isn't a new thing either, women have given birth since the beginning of time. To a degree, a woman's body knows what to do, so I'm planning on just listening to it and going along for the ride.

I get that even modern childbirth can be scary, and I've seen since announcing my pregnancy that the world and his wife has a labour story that they're just dying to tell you. Whether it's through pride, shared experiences, or just a desire to warn you of what is to come—a woman's favourite thing to discuss with a pregnant woman is her own birth story. And I'm cool with that. I actually like hearing these stories. They are fascinating, and it's great to learn about other people's experiences.

But

6) You telling me how scared I should be about labour doesn't scare me.

I'm so stubborn, it actually makes me want to do the exact opposite. It makes me more determined to just roll with it, to wing it, and to be fine.

And this last point is where 'society' comes in. We're expected to be scared of childbirth. It's a huge deal. We're expected to be worried. The sheer number of people who have followed up their happy congratulations to me with an immediate 'oh but you must be so scared!' is astonishing. Several friends even told me they were scared FOR me. This might be meant well, and with humour, but it certainly isn't helpful, and so I've largely ignored it.

There's so much we still don't know about the science of pregnancy and birth, but there's new information available all the time, and with the proliferation of social media, that information (along with a lot of opinions and misinformation) is constantly at our fingertips. And this is why pregnant women need a thick skin. Take that birth story with a pinch of salt—everyone is different, and what happened to Debbie down the pub won't necessarily happen to you.

Ultimately, what will be, will be. My body should know what to do, and if it doesn't, I'm sure the highly trained NHS staff will. Nobody can know what my birth story will be, least of all me. And life is too short to worry about something that hasn't happened yet. So I'm not.

So if you've stuck with me this long, and you're pregnant too, my 'advice' such as it is, is to get off the forums, take the stories with a pinch of salt and just wing it. That's what I'll be doing. So good luck mama, and I'll see you on the other side. We'll be fine.