For those of you who’ve been following our parenting journey since the beginning of this fine establishment, you all know that our previous birth story was fast and furious. Finn made his entrance into this world in under four hours and our doula was a total no-show.
So, I’d like to give you five reasons I would be a great dude-la (male doula) for my wife during her delivery of my second son:
1. I sort of know vaginas
Not professionally, but personally. I mean, I’m not an expert but I would say I know my way around one. I ain’t afraid of no chocha. (That was said to the tune of the Ghostbusters theme song.)
2. I enjoy babies
I like babies. I could write a Seussian poem about why I like them and how and when and where, but I’ll just say that holding my little Finn when he was just born was magical.
3. I’m solid under pressure
I’ve been in some tough situations and helped people through them. I’m a problem solver and a calming influence. My hand can gripped so tightly it might explode and I’ll just giggle. Squeezing kegel muscles? I can support that.
4. I’m supportive
I’m a giver. It’s that simple.
5. My wife would never allow this to happen
There are competent professionals who assist birthing mothers. I am not one of those people. I’m not saying men CAN’T do this job, but I probably shouldn’t. Especially for my wife on this bout of people pooping. Becoming a doula is no small feat.
This time around, we’re approaching things so differently. You could argue that we’re being somewhat neglectful or lazy about the whole thing, but I prefer the term “nonchalant.” We white-knuckled the pregnancy/birth process so hard I thought I was going to get life arthritis and we have no desire to repeat that frantic feeling. Round two, we determined, would be different. Somehow.
Sure, we’re dipping back into some of the resources of our last childbirth square dance, but there’s a definite possibility this experience will be completely different. That’s okay. We’re embracing the future.
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