Journal entry by Barbara Bradley — Jul 5, 2011

For good, bad or indifferent I can say most things in life don’t happen the way we play them out in our mind.  For those that don’t know I am originally from Texas. Here is a glimpse of my imagination Texas-style.  Growing up I had visions of going to college, meeting my husband and starting a family. Nothing earth-shattering so far, right? After basking in a beautiful, healthy pregnant glow for nine months it’s time to get the show on the road, and this is how any self-respecting Texan girl has her babies. 

While getting your hair fixed at the town salon, your water breaks just as your stylist is spraying a second coat of Aquanet on your big hair. You phone your hubby, interrupt his fishin’ trip and off to the hospital you go.  Upon checking in a nurse leads you to a private suite where immediately a team will hook you up with pain meds, an epidural and a People magazine. Yee-haw! You don’t need to worry your pretty head; just put your feet up and settle in for a nice long nap. 

The hubster is lead away to his own suite for expectant Dads complete with it’s own wet bar and flat screen. There’s a back porch complete with recliners, surround sound and a place to hitch-up your horses. But mind your manners ‘cuz nurse Lucille will not stand for the men folk blaring Willie Nelson or spitting tabacco in her suite so you best go out on the back porch. Just know she will gut you like a six-point buck if you even think about throwing peanut shells on her clean floor.

Let’s get back to the lovely mother-to-be.  Approximately six hours after slipping into a pain med, epidural- induced sleep, you wake refreshed to nurse Lucille’s bubbling voice.  Think Paula Deen.

“Sugar Britches!! You dun had yer self a purrty baaaby!” With your boots still on and makeup still in place, you look down to find a baby in one hand while clutching a frozen margarita in the other and wearing a sombrero. Ole’!

Three days later and still smacking her gum, Lucille sends you on your way. “Don’t forgit’ my complimenTARY homemade salsa on yer way out, Love, and please tell your husband not to wear his spurs inside next time. Toodles!”

Thanks, Lucille, Byyyye!

As much as I was looking forward to my Texas way of birthing a baby, we moved to North Carolina. They do things a bit different here. After peeing on approximately 4 pregnancy tests, I was anxious to get a professional to confirm my joyous occasion.

“M’am, the soonest a doctor can see you is two weeks but you can see a midwife tomorrow. Can I schedule that appointment for you?”

Fast forward to us moving to NC and actually being pregnant, I was recommended a midwife. A midwife?! I was almost insulted. Really? Am I a tub-birthing-no-drug-breathing-midwife kinda gall? Aren’t we past all that? Don’t we have pain medicines now? After all, I considered myself an absolute expert on giving birth and the whole midwife’s part in that process and had already decided it was not for me. Isn’t this what it’s like….

Back in the day you met your future mate at the local sack and feed, married outside in front of the locals and got pregnant approximately 36 minutes later. There is no trip to the spa or salsa for you, my dear. You worked the fields right up until your water broke. You yelled out to the border collie to summon Pa. This sets off a chain reaction of hitching the buggy, smoke signaling, mama getting the warm water and towels (even after having children I still don’t know what that’s about but apparently it was critical for women in all the known parts of the world), and somebody finally reaches the all-important town midwife.

Next thing you know you’re crouched down like Yoda in the wheat fields sweating and screaming profanities in the throws of labor. This wild haired beast is dancing circles around you chanting at the top of her lungs and hitting her tamborine. All the while your thinking, “When I get this baby out, I’m gonna…”

“Uh, M’am….. can I schedule an appointment for you?” Sensing my hesitation she tried again. “How ‘bout you meet with the midwife just to confirm you are pregnant and get you started on some vitamens. If it isn’t for you, we’ll get you in to a doctor of your choosing.”

To make a long blog even longer, I did meet with a midwife and loved her.  In fact, I stayed under the midwives’ care for both pregnancies. Don’t believe all that you hear….. they don’t even own tambourines. Ironically, after all these preconceived ideas about how things were supposed to have gone I ended up delivering both babies via c-section. Ole’!

All kidding aside, try to keep your mind open, pray, stay the course, and know it all will work out in the end. 

Weeelll, if yall ‘spect Sugar Britches to stay purrty she needs to get her beauty rest. Yall come back now!