When I found out I was pregnant I was elated! The thought of having a baby brought me so much joy, because the world needs more of my DNA. You are welcome, planet earth! As my midsection began to swell, I would adoringly pet my tummy, excited to meet the human (fingers crossed) inside. Yet trepidation also started to grow along with my baby bump. Soon my stomach stuck out so far I couldn’t even see my vagina unless I had a mirror and been trained by Cirque du Soleil. Suddenly the anxiety sank in like muddy toes at Woodstock ’94.
How was something big enough to extend my abdomen past all reason going to come out of an orifice small enough to snugly secure a finger sized tampon?! It was at that moment I realized that the laws of physics were meaningless. Nature was wrong. This baby was not meant to come out of my lady vent!
I panicked, and started thinking of alternative solutions. Maybe I could dislocate my jaw, and barf the baby through my mouth instead?! Or perhaps I could reroute my plumbing, and poop my child out? At least that hole is used to pushing! Yet after talking to my doctor, I realized those ideas were not only medically impossible, but that I was also a prime candidate for psychiatric drugs. This meant only one thing. Somehow I was going to have to get used to the idea of squirting a giant head from my loins.
So I did what any normal person would do. I got a load of ice cream, cried into the tub to season it with tears, and then I looked up “unassisted births” on Youtube. I figured that if these ladies can birth in a Wal-Mart kiddie pool while their incompetent husbands fiddled with the camera and wondered aloud where the zoom button was… then maybe everything is going to be okay. Yet I still couldn’t get away from the idea of how much it was going to hurt. I swear like a drunken sailor and punch walls when I stub my toe – how was I going to gracefully extract a live being from my muff and not want to snuff everyone within a 5-mile radius?
Then the heavens parted, Mother Gaia saw my inner turmoil, and a documentary fell from the sky onto my lap with a bed of cloud pillows. Or my cousin told me to watch it, but whatever. The movie in question – The Orgasmic Birth.
I was like whaaaaaaa???!!!
All the depictions of birth I had ever seen were of women screaming their heads off in misery. The thought of a birth being Orgasmic had never even occurred to me as an option. As far as I was concerned, you either were in a ton of pain, or you were in a ton of pain. The notion that birth could be pleasant was about as realistic as someone telling me that unicorns got really sassy if you throw pixie dust in their face. So I gathered my other pregnant friend, wondered if we should light some candles, and sat down to watch the film.
Yeah, so not only is having an orgasm while birthing possible, but I saw it with my own eyes. But it wasn’t porno or anything. It was remarkable.
Biologically it does make sense… in a way. All the organs in your body that gave you an orgasm to make the baby (fingers crossed) are the same ones being used to birth the baby. So since the same parts are involved, the same potential for pleasure is as well. The orgasms I saw weren’t really sexual in nature, but more cosmic. It was as if these women were tapping into the secrets of the universe, and then releasing the knowledge of life and death in a primal moment of ecstasy.
Even though the idea of an orgasmic birth sounded phenomenal, I wasn’t exactly sure I was going to be able to have one. Yet, just knowing they were out there gave me hope, and took all the angst away. In a landscape where women are conditioned to view birth as more of a medical procedure than natural process, it is pivotal we shift the conversation away from fear and towards empowerment. The more confident women are about giving birth, the more women will feel in control of the process, and less vulnerable to unnecessary intervention. The orgasmic birth is part of a greater movement to bring birth back to women so we don’t approach it from a place of terror. Women need to feel like they can trust their bodies, and remember that their uterus and their baby know what they are doing.
When it was time for me to give birth I was ready! Then I went to the hospital and was told, “actually no, you are not ready, come back later.” So I went to a nearby park and labored outside like a boss. I sat in the goddess position and envisioned my painless birth until the pain really started kicking in, and I went back to the hospital. Okay, so things weren’t going exactly as planned, but I wasn’t scared so that was something!! I wouldn’t have categorized the next few hours as “orgasmic” per se, but I kept the image in my mind that it could be. When it came time to push my baby out, as much as I wanted the doctor to inject black tar heroine directly into my eyeballs, I decided to try the natural route.
Did I have an “orgasmic” birth?? No. Like many times in the bedroom, sometimes you just can’t get there. But what I did have was a very peaceful birthing experience. Because I was relaxed I didn’t tear, and even got to pull my baby out of my own vadge – so that was pretty epic.
So if you are pregga, I highly suggest going for the orgasmic birth because seriously that would be awesome.