Natural chilbirth. (it may sound like I'm bragging here, but that's only because I'm awesome.)

"This is gonna be fun." That's what your dad woke up to at 4 a.m. on the morning of baby Ginger's birth. I had been laboring for four hours by then and he knew the moment he rolled over and saw me smiling from ear to ear and heard me say those words that this would be the day. It was our 4th and final birth.  He thinks I'm a little crazy for enjoying labor so much. But I'm sure he takes some comfort in knowing that I have it all under control.

I don't know really know why I was so hell bent on natural childbirth. "Natural" just sort of implies that that's the way to do it. It's what we are built for. It's the single greatest claim which only we (women)can stake, and I wanted to embrace it as such. It's only natural, naturally. That being said, it hurts like hell. Seriously HELL. During each of my labors I questioned my stubborn insistence to do it "naturally". But that was always at that final and far too late moment when I knew the little (but seemingly GIGANTIC) head was about to rip through me. They call that moment the "ring of fire". Need I say more?  The key to my successful natural childbirths was trusting my body and listening to it every step of the way (though I did have some trouble hearing my body over the the screaming voices in my head cursing at me; "Seriously? Again? What the hell is wrong with you?")

And when it was over, it was truly over.  The very second I laid eyes on my babies, I forgot about the agony that only seconds ago, had me swearing I would never do this again (all FOUR times). I didn't need painkillers to shield me from the tears and burns that were still stinging; I had my baby in my arms. As I held and studied my firstborn, I felt such utopia that I didn't even notice my midwife's arm up inside of me and her fist pushing on my stomach trying to stop the hemorrhaging. In my new world, with my new family, and my new empowered self, everything was perfect.

I cherish each one of my birthing experiences. They were all strikingly similar with uniquely precious results; they all took about eight hours. All of my babies look like the same person when they come out, and yet they are nothing alike. My brother asks if I am in my "usual room" when he's coming to visit. Madeline does "this little piggy" as soon as she meets a new sibling. The staff feels like family and your dad makes his usual joke to them as we leave with our newest addition; "see ya next time." They used to chuckle. Now they just nod in agreement. And Dad handles his role with devotion, admiration and ease. A lesser woman may curse him for appearing so relaxed and calm while she is laboring tirelessly and painfully. I take great comfort in it. He has great faith in me.

With each of my childbirths, came the birth of a stronger, more confident woman. I want you all to know that I am willing to walk (or push) through (a ring of) fire for them. The agony I endured built me a suit of armor that will surely deflect every agonizing temper tantrum and painful adolescent "I hate you" that you will certainly pelt me with (though I do wish it had a thicker layer of patience). Sure, you will bruise me at times, but I will forever remember what I went through to bring you into this world. And while your attacks may be even more painful than labor, I will know I have the strength and will to survive it, and see us all through it.