by BabyCenter Guest Blogger posted in Pregnancy

By Helen Farmer

Over two years ago, when I was pregnant with my first child, I coerced my husband into attending a two-hour workshop on yoga breathing and hypnobirthing. Twelve couples sat in a circle, trying different pain relief techniques, from visualization (?Imagine your uterus rising up like a hot air balloon?) to massage (which involved the women getting on all-fours while the husbands kneeled behind them, as the bloke next to us said ?That?s how we got into this mess in the first place.?). At one point my husband had a nap on a yoga mat.
We then had a truly mortifying discussion about perineum massage, where one keen couple massively overshared about what oil they were using and told us about a gadget they?d bought on Amazon to help re-train the wife?s pelvic floor after delivery. The instructor asked us to raise our hands if we were hoping for a drug-free birth, and everyone in the room dutifully (smugly, I felt) put their hands up. I didn?t. She looked at me quizzically, head tilted. ?I haven?t decided yet, and don?t want to set myself up for disappointment? I explained. ?If I need drugs, I?ll take drugs?.
We left the studio, both rather pale, eye muscles strained from rolling. Not for us. These are not our people.
Phoebe?s birth (you can read about it here) was pretty awesome, by my standards. I was induced when my body was ready, had an epidural, read my Kindle, then pushed for half an hour and it was drama ? and...