Note to reader: If vagina talk and childbirthy stuff and TMI make you twitchy, you should just stop reading now. In fact, you might just want to check back in, oh, June or so. I envision a lot of vagina talk in my near future.
I had a midwife checkup today. All is good. And I'm almost at 38 weeks! Super exciting!
Although she said I should be fully prepared to go to 42 weeks. I should gear up for it, rather than being disappointed to not go into labor two weeks from now.
She did the only cervical check they do until you go into labor. They don't believe in it. Which is fine with me.
In fact, this particular midwife feels very strongly that nothing but a penis should be put in your vagina. No latex gloves, nothing that can introduce bacteria.
Seriously. She's said, "Nothing but a penis!" to me a number of times.
I get her point, but it kind of makes me want to pull things out of my purse and be all, "Not even some sparkly lip gloss?"
Yah, so all was going well and we were having a perfectly nice conversation even though her hand was in my vagina and then all of a sudden she was all, "OK, now, here's what a contraction feels like."
MOTHEROFGOD FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK OW! Is kind of what it felt like.
What I said once I was able to speak was, "Wow, that hurts!"
"Yes. And when you're in labor, that's what you're going to feel every 3-5 minutes."
(Huh. And why didn't I opt for the repeat C-section?)
And then, then she did some other kind of little trick and was all, "Do you feel this? What does that feel like?"
BESIDES JESUSFUCKINGHELL? "Um..." (breathe, Lisa, breathe...) "Full? And burny? And like it's pressing on my butt?"
"Exactly. That's how it feels when the baby is descending."
So we went through this mini-enactment of how it's going to feel to go through contractions and the baby coming down through the birth canal. I knew it was going to hurt...but somehow I thought it would just be like terrible menstrual cramps.
I didn't think about the fact that it would be all stabby and fiery-burny awful inside my tenderest little womanly parts. I don't know why.
And then! Then, as I was recovering from the fisting she said, "Now, you and Nick need to be having sex three to five times a week."
THREE TO FIVE TIMES A WEEK. (Visions of C-section scheduling began to dance in my head.)
I replied in a tiny little voice, "Oh, please don't make me."
"I know it's awful. I know. And it's not going to get better. But you have to. You need to get that cervix-ripening sperm up there."
"We have to?"
"Yes. Nobody thinks it's fun. Maybe you can lie on your side and read a book or make a grocery list. Just tell Nick he has a job to do."