Pangs of envy

Listen I know jealousy is not a flattering shade. On anyone. We’re all old and wise enough to know that envy achieves very little. But, of course, knowing that doesn’t actually stop the old green eyed monster from stopping by once in a while. At least not for me. And lately? I’m big enough to admit it’s been stopping by quite a bit.

It’s always triggered by the same thing. Childbirth. Which is a pretty relevant topic for me, being 37 weeks’ pregnant and all. In recent weeks I have heard of three instances where friends’ of friends’ have had their babies so quickly that it’s happened at home or in the car on the way to hospital. In all three cases, mother and baby were healthy and thriving despite the circumstances. My reaction has been identical each time; relief everyone was ok quickly followed by intense and frequent pangs of jealousy. Insane, visceral jealousy. Why were they so anatomically well equipped to deliver a baby so fast? What kind of sweet deal did they strike with mother nature?? AND WHERE WAS I WHEN THEY WERE DIVVYING OUT THOSE ARRANGEMENTS?

It’s the same whenever I hear of someone delivering their baby in under five hours, or anyone who describes their childbirth as empowering or says, as another did, that delivering her child wasn’t as bad as a knee reconstruction she had had earlier.  Now I’m sorry but to my mind that begs one very pertinent question. What the hell kind of knee reconstruction did she endure?? Was she awake while they chipped away at her joint to realign the ligaments?? Did they skip that bit where a nice anaesthetist arrives and dispenses a GENERAL ANAESTHETIC???

At this point you may be wondering why I am so ungracious in the face of such happy and straightforward baby deliveries. As callous as I may sound I don’t actually begrudge anyone for having a fast or empowering birth and I would never EVER wish a long or difficult birth on anyone. Nonetheless I am overcome with envy when I hear of bodies which deliver babies so easily. And, seeing as though you asked - didn’t you? – I’ll tell you why. Because my experience with childbirth was not fast or empowering.

Theoretically I could have driven from Sydney to Perth and still have made it to a hospital in plenty of time to deliver Miss I. Considering my body was experiencing violent spasms every few minutes I couldn’t have actually driven anywhere but, the point is, there was no chance of me delivering at home or in the car. Because I was in labour for 38 hours. That’s right. Thirty. Eight. Hours. And before you even think about dismissing my description of ‘labour’ as ‘labour’ let me tell you more.

My contractions started at five minute intervals. They were strong from the get go and they never got further apart. Every childbirth book and antenatal teacher will tell you that the point at which contractions are just five minutes apart is the time to get to hospital. It’s not uncommon for contractions to begin at 30 minutes apart and whittle their way down to five minutes and then as the final stage approaches just a minute or less apart. So when mine started that close together I could only conclude one thing; my baby was coming fast.

How. Wrong. I. Was. My baby was coming but, my god, she was going to take her time. After 12 hours’ I assumed I’d be raring to go. And, yet, I had not dilated. Not one bit. After 24 hours and still no progress I was exhausted and disheartened. By 28 hours I was barely lucid an,  after suggesting someone put me down like an animal, an anaesthetist promptly arrived to put me out of my misery. Fortunately he dismissed my dramatic suggestion and opted for the less drastic injection; an epidural. And, like great swathes of child-delivering women all over this world before me, I was instantly grateful. For his very existence as much as the marvels of modern medicine.

Ten hours later I was the proud, shattered and positively delirious mother of Miss I. And by delirious I mean truly delirious. Not in any romantic use of the word – I actually felt like I was inhabiting a distant and unfamiliar planet and I remained in that state for a few days. This state was naturally compounded by the fact I was now responsible for feeding a living breathing baby around the clock.  (Our seasoned antenatal teacher shared one piece of wisdom in this regard that I will never forget; childbirth would be much easier if you didn’t become responsible for a newborn baby immediately afterwards and equally that caring for a newborn baby would be much easier if you weren’t recovering from the physical demands of delivering that newborn).

One silver lining of Miss I’s birth (apart from the adorable bundle herself) was that I was on the other side of the world to most of our family and friends; I wasn’t exactly fit for public consumption. Two lovely friends who visited us the morning after Miss I’s birth left so wide-eyed that I still feel seeing me that way may have had a strong contraceptive effect.  A few days later, after clasping her eyes on Miss I for the first time, another friend commented that if there was ever a baby worth waiting 38 hours for she was lying in my arms. I agreed. But, with my hand on my heart, let me say this. I wouldn’t love her any less if she had come in 3 hours. I promise!

So Mother Nature if you’re listening (or reading) and you’re having one of those days where you hand out coupons for fast births in the next few weeks PICK ME! PLEASE PICK ME!! I promise I’ll work on my jealousy issues.

What makes you insanely jealous? And please don’t say nothing. Tell me I’m not alone in succumbing to the occasional pang of envy??