Were You Born in a Gym?
For three months we’ve been debating about whether to do a home birth or go to a birthing center, since I’m not considering a hospital birth. Much of this decision hinges on what kind of home we’ll be living in in January.
You see, I’d love to do a home birth. I’ve heard great things about the individualized level of care you get from a midwife. They visit you in your home, take as much time with you as you need, and get personally involved in your life. However, the thought of having a baby in our (not large) apartment isn’t my favorite thought. There’s probably plenty of room, but I’m honestly concerned with bothering our neighbors. Never had a baby before, but I’m under the impression that it’s not exactly a quiet affair. And as we don’t know if we’ll be in a house or an apartment, it’s tough to decide right now.
That’s why I’ve been leaning toward a birthing center, but I’m a little disappointed about this.
Then, I had a thought. It happened this morning while Stephen and I were working out. One great thing about our apartment complex is the full-service gym in the clubhouse. There were some meat heads doing free weights when we came in, and I suddenly remembered why I never, ever, ever go to the gym without my iPod. While I was listening to the three of them grunt and moan and breathe heavily and generally make unnecessary noises for twenty minutes, this brilliant idea occurred to me.
Why don’t I just give birth in the gym? No one would notice… because it almost always sounds like someone is pushing out a baby in our gym, anyway.