By Myriah C. Boudreaux
I am Wonder Woman. My friends say so. This status is earned because I have birthed all my babies, including a ten-pounder, drug free. My fifth time around, I wanted my labor and delivery, a homebirth, on video. Would this dispel or confirm my growing legend? I wasn’t sure. But I wanted the option of later experiencing the event objectively, or at least with my eyes open.
Video-taping kept me at my best.
1. It encouraged me to look great. I bought a turquoise knee-length Greek goddess style dress for the occasion, which I wore until my Tarzan cries convinced me to strip and forego the Jane look.
2. It discouraged me from doing anything regrettable, such as biting my husband’s shoulder when my vocalizations had gone from “mmm” to “AWWW” to “O God, O-God, O-GOD!”
As pushing time arrived near the end of my three-hour labor, I leapt onto the bed and with a mighty cry single-handedly delivered my nearly-nine-pound baby while in lunge position, and sporting a gleaming smile.
Wait. The video tells another story.
Kneeling on the bed on one knee, nuzzling my forehead against my husband’s neck, clinging onto him, I yelled, “Catch it, catch it, CATCHIT!” – whereupon my husband single-handedly received the baby – and I shouted “Praise God!”
The video did confirm the following:
1. My sons are always impressed by warrior cries.
2. My daughters appreciate that mothers willingly sacrifice for great rewards.
3. I am Wonder Woman, even if not quite a legend.
