We took Bradley classes during my first pregnancy (highly recommend, they’re great) because regardless of whether or not your pregnancy is bliss or burden you are aware of something truly horrible: this baby is coming out. I imagine for most women there is an initial euphoria with which a deep and primal dread sidles up beside and waits. Through bump photos and Target registries and baby showers and baby kicks, mild terror makes herself quite comfortable. The basic idea behind Bradley is that labor is natural, pain is part of the process to be embraced, and you are capable. In other words, “It’s gonna hurt like hell, kid, you can…
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Prize Fighter
My hair was knotted, my abdomen still too weak to hold me upright, and I was bleeding as I stepped into the most comfortable and undignified part of the Postpartum Mother’s uniform – the adult diaper. He held out his hand to help me out of the bathtub with a gentle touch and I felt fragile. I felt like a brittling petal, my movements were careful and slow. I was studying the floor for places to put my feet when I heard him smile as he said, “You’re so beautiful.” I was wearing a diaper, y’all. I did the head-tilt, the scoff of incredulity, the “thanks, weirdo” smile, but he wouldn’t…
