Other Mothers’ Birth Plans:
I want my husband to be my birth companion. He will help me with my breathing techniques. I want an epidural. A waterbirth or lying on a bed- whichever is most comfortable at the time.
My Birth Plan:
Right, so there’s going to be a massive fuck- off teepee within my giant fortress of a treehut in the middle of this huge bush on the island. There’ll be cookies. So. Many. Cookies. All of the cookies. And Scooby Doo Make- a- Shakes for me and my midwives, who will be dressed in traditional Native American Indian feather headdresses. Facepaint is optional, but obviously this will assist in the whole procedure.
I want to listen to Jimi Hendrix so my baby absorbs his essence at birth. I also would’ve liked David Attenborough to have been there to narrate the whole event, but it seems I’ll have to just settle for a photographer to document it. Just no photos of my icky bits. Even I don’t want to see that.
There’ll be fairy lights on the deck and vanilla scented candles and coconut incense too, and a shrine devoted to the Unicorn Godess of Strength and Love. I want a swiss ball to bounce on and I might even do a painting. All must address me as “Your Highness.” And I want a frickin shoulder rub. No one is allowed inside the teepee without my permission. I might have a lil drum circle goin on outside though.
When the time comes, there will be a cloud of glitter and the sky will light up in purple waves of lightening and little rainbows will pour from my belly button. It will be the most bewildering welcome the earth has ever given anyone. It’ll also be totally painless.
And then he will be in my arms. Leave him all goopy. Don’t cut his cord straight away or nothing. A little wiggly, slimey, perfect mini- human. “The Circle of Life” song from The Lion King will play and all the people will rejoice and be in awe of his majesty.
And then he’ll have somethin to eat, have a snooze, and then we’ll take over the universe.