Made of steel or cotton balls?

I’ve been pondering as of late on my pain threshold. We all know what’s coming in about 7 months. Yay, baby. Boo, labor. I’ve been self-evaluating to really question what I am capable of.

Becoming pregnant is an interesting mix of emotions. You think about the sweet, cuddly, precious baby you will be holding in about 8 months but you also think about the warzone you will be in for the hours before meeting the little gift. You hear stories and everyone acknowledges that labor is going to be some of the worst pain anyone will ever face but you don’t really think about it until you’re pregnant. And then you really think about it. And think about it. And think about it.

I don’t think I’m obsessing about it. I just want an honest evaluation of what I think I can handle. Right now, I want a natural birth. No meds. I think I can do it. I talk to other women who have done it. They are still alive. I also talk to women who used meds and they say they couldn’t have done it without them. Can you hear my bravery shaking? They acknowledge my courage but I can see in their eyes they are already taking bets on how soon I’ll be screaming for an epidural.

All this leads me to my semi-irrational thoughts I have been having. I find myself wishing I had broken bones earlier in life or had monumental accidents so that I could have evidence of my ability to tolerate pain. I haven’t really gone through much in my 24 years. A few stitches early in life but that’s about it. Now, don’t get me wrong, paper cuts are intense but I don’t think they are going to give me the data I’m looking for. I’d like to think that I’m pretty tough but I don’t know if that is because I am tough or if it is because I want to be tough. I mean, the red hair has got to count for something, right?

So, I’ve made my decision but I guess I’m just not very confident in the decision yet. Here’s hoping I manage to channel my inner Xena Warrior Princess in the next 7 months. For Andy’s sake.