The Birthing Plan

The concept of a birthing plan (or birth plan, if you prefer) is a bit foreign to me as a first-time expectant father. This is not a part of the process heavily advertised by movies and television, and I suppose for a portion of the pregnant population in the world at large, it is probably not a part of the process at all. It is possible, in fact, that the whole “birth plan” concept is limited to women seeing midwives or considering water-births, home-births, or some other -birth that does not involve the use of groovy drugs. (Yes, I have seen enough of “The Business of Being Born” to know that the effect of many of these drugs is less than groovy. This is just a blog - please keep that in mind). In any event, a birth plan is part of our process since my wife has decided to go with a mid-wife practice. I say “our” process even though my contributions to the birth plan have been vague grunts and remaining silent when my wife tells me how things will be in the delivery room. I’m not the one who has to push, so who am I to argue?

Based on my observation, a birth plan is simply a checklist of things you desire to occur or not occur during and immediately following the process of delivery. Among the things included in the birth plan are the medical interventions you do or do not wish to have, whether or not the father will cut the cord, whether you would like the hospital staff to give the baby it’s first bath or do it yourself, etc. At their core, I think a birth plan is a blue-print for the best case scenario within the delivery room(which will rarely happen), but ideally the birth plan allows you to think through the contingencies, and what ifs to plan for the unknown. Birth plans are personal to each couple involved in the birth of a child. That said, there is a reason why the mother bears primary responsibility for a birth plan - they are going through the thick of it. Even the most involved father is little more than a coach to the athlete putting forth the effort to win the game. We would screw it up if the plan were left to us.

Here is my rendering of several birth plans, written by a few hypothetical males:

The “Typical” Male, circa 1920-1950: Pace nervously in the waiting room of local hospital, gripping hat in hands, and sweating profusely, until told of child’s arrival and sex. Fail to inquire as to condition of wife. Strut around hospital waiting room with sh**-eating grin on face, handing out cigars and slapping backs of complete strangers. Collapse into chair exhausted from all your hard work.

The Workaholic (I could just as easily call this “The Lawyer”): Remain firmly at your desk until your wife calls to let you know she’s at eight centimeters. Rush to meet her at hospital via taxi, so as to continue answering emails on Blackberry, Droid, or iPhone all the way to the hospital. Assuming (a) wife found her way to hospital without you, and (b) the delivery is not over, continue checking emails during contractions and pushes when wife is distracted by pain. Take half a day off from work to make sure wife and child are settled in after delivery is complete.

The Modern D-Bag: (variation on the workaholic): Remain fixated on Droid, iPhone, or personal video game console throughout delivery. Sigh deeply and offer to get wife some ice chips, or something, at least once to demonstrate that you are “part of the process.” During grunts of pain, ask doctors if she can get some more drugs without consulting wife’s desires. At no point make contact with wife or hospital staff. Do not put device down until baby is crowning, and then only to make some variation on the comment “ew.”

The Media Whore: Arrive at hospital with video camera, digital SLR, and some device linked to your personal Twitter feed, Facebook account, and, if you are out of touch with modern trends, your MySpace page. Proceed to document the entire experience over the vehement, vulgar, and at times psychotic objections of your wife. Ask your wife to interact with the camera more. Narrowly avoid having camera smash to the floor as your wife’s fist clocks you in the ear. Get plenty of action shots below the equator, and send them to Facebook as soon as possible.

The Clueless (based on a true story, kept anonymous to protect the dense): Wake in the middle of the night to your wife telling you she thinks her water broke. Recognize vaguely that baby’s due date is still several days away. Without moving, tell wife she just peed herself, to take a shower and go back to bed. Roll into fetal position and put arms around head to avoid pummeling blows. When blows subside, grudgingly join wife in trip to hospital where you find (surprise!) she is in fact having a baby.

I can have a lot of fun mocking stereotypical behavior of fathers everywhere (as well as the occasion specific instance of real-life cluelessness) because I haven’t been there yet. I am certain that, given a few more months, I will be able to add to this list all the ways I made a fool of myself while watching my daughter come into the world.