I pulled the fitting room curtain shut and removed my dress from the plastic covering it’d been hiding under for the last few months, waiting to be altered. I was six months post-partum and just weeks away from serving as a bridesmaid in the wedding of two dear friends—the first “real” event I’d be going to after having our son.
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In one of the final sessions of our childbirth class, the teacher walked us soon-to-be-mamas and our partners through putting together our birth plans. Most of us ended up in the class because we hoped to experience birth with minimal medical interventions. With that in mind, she encouraged us to come up with a few affirmations to comfort our fears
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Towards the end of my pregnancy, my husband and I took a wonderful childbirth class with a local nurse and doula. We finished this six-week course feeling as prepared as two soon-to-be parents can be for the birth of their child. For the vaginal birth of their child, I should say. Out of 12 total hours of child birth education,
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Picture it. My bedroom, 2009. Early morning sunshine streams through the window, casting an angelic glow over my son as he toddles into the room just as I slip my arms into a button-up shirt. He tilts his rosy-cheeked, cherubic face to the side and peers at me with twinkling blue eyes. “Nose.” I stop buttoning my shirt and look
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