Desperately seeking softeners

And I’m not talking about the kind you use for fabric.

(Also, I’m sorry to be talking about this again. But…I can’t NOT.)

People, I am hellbent on a VBAC. Hellbent, I say. And I will do anything in my power to make this happen when the time comes for this child to make an appearance.

But I feel like I have given birth forty times already and I’ve never even given birth (vaginally) once.

When nature calls, I brace myself for…well, for what I imagine labor feels like.

I grip whatever is nearby–a countertop, the wall-mounted tissue dispenser, a handicapped stall railing (yes, I’m that person). I grab hold and I bear down and push. I count. I breathe. Sometimes like they do in the movies: “hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo.” I rest. And then I push again.

There is that moment where I think I cannot go any further. I cannot possibly push again. I will be stuck on the toilet for the rest of my life while halfway done with my business and that’s okay because I just.cannot.do.this.any.longer.please.God.don’t.make.me.

Then I feel it. That moment where there’s a bit of strength (or air pressure) that builds up within me. That moment happens. And I hear a rally cry in my head. “You can do this, Miranda! You’ve got this!”

I brace myself for one final push. I will myself to give it just one more shot.

And then it happens. That glorious moment where it is out and I am free and I exhale and want to collapse right off the toilet, completely spent from the battle that has just been fought with my colon.

Is that what it’s like, people? Because if it is I am ready. (Except I’m totally not ready in any other way except for this one.)

Also? Colace should sponsor me.