RSVP: Enya or Salt N' Pepa? Classic Dilemma.

I am thrilled to present another fabulous guest post, courtesy of my dear friend Actchy. Back in 1994, a young woman from Jersey headed to the Midwest for college and ended up living down the hall from me. My friends and I (sophomores) and hers (freshmen) hit it off and have been "letting the dawgs out" ever since. Actchy and I have shared many laughs in many locations--from our dorm's study lounge (a funnier place than you'd think) to the arcade at the Santa Monica Pier where we showed the assembled crowd what was what on the Dance, Dance Revolution Machine. She authors her own blog, where you can read an account of a dentist visit that will have you crying with laughter or a story of singing that will make you smile and fill you with joy. Actchy is a writer, a foodie, an environmentalist, a musical theater geek, and an awesome friend. Enjoy her post . . .

I am expecting a baby. This baby, gender unknown, is due to arrive on Christmas Day. As I don’t have any other children, I’m not entirely sure what to expect in the delivery room. I’m not exactly scared, per se, but I have been thinking of ways to approach labor, of coping mechanisms, if you will.

You might suggest that the best way to cope would be to plan on a nice healthy dose of pain medication. You might be right. But I’m up in the air as to whether to have an epidural, or whether to go it alone. I’ve heard good and bad sides of both approaches. My sister, who is so woozy with respect to all things medical that she won’t let her husband watch “E.R.”, despised the after-effects of the epidural she had with her first child. She went natural for her second two. Other friends, including, I believe, NTB’s own MEP, found the epidural to be the best comfort-providing invention since they came up with the brassiere.

So I figure that I’ll play “wait and see.” Which probably means that I will, in fact, have an epidural.*

Irrespective of this, one thing I have decided will be helpful during labor is an Ipod stocked with appropriate childbirth music.

Now, as I have mentioned once or twice over at Beyond Pickles I don’t have particularly terrific taste in music However, I freaking love music. I will listen to and allow my mood to be shaped by just about anything: from classical music to classical rock, I’m all over the map. You can ask my husband. He is eternally bemoaning how annoying it is that we share an Itunes library:

“Seriously? You downloaded the live version of Sonny and Cher singing ‘I got you, Babe’… purposely?”

For the most part, I try to limit my listening to Barbara Streisand’s “The Broadway Album” to times when my husband is not at home. It’s only fair. Especially since there are some artists we like equally (read: Springsteen, Dave Matthews, Coldplay.) However, if there is one time when I get carte blanche to listen to whatever the hell I deem appropriate, it’s while I’m in labor.

Right?

Of course right.

And that’s where I’d like to appeal to the general readership of Not To Brag… Did you listen to music while you or your partner was in labor? What did you find helpful? Even if you have never given birth, are there certain songs you find inspirational? Ones that egg you on for another mile when you go running?

I really would love to know.

I’m not exactly sure what I’m looking for, so really, all suggestions are welcome. I know that in college, when a roommate would leave for an exam, we’d often play “The River” by Garth Brooks.** Inspirational, yes. But to me, this seems a little too slow for purposes of childbirth.

Who knows? My sister ended up listening to Enya, and that’s nothing if not slow. Actually, for the record, she continually asked her husband to turn the volume up on the Enya, for she “couldn’t hear it.” My poor brother-in-law, who is actually legitimately hard of hearing, ended up with ringing in his ears for two days, and had to apologize to the entire floor for the super-loud New Age dance party going down in Room 213. (Again, no pain meds…methinks the contractions took over her senses.)

When I jog on the treadmill, something I haven’t done for, oh, half a year now, I must admit that I am inspired by “Gonna Fly Now,” i.e., Rocky’s theme. (What do you want from me; I grew up just outside Philly.) However, I think if that were playing while I was in the throws of a contraction, it might be a little too…appropriate. Especially during the parts when there are actual words to the song: “Trying hard now…it’s so hard now…” I do sort of want to avoid the maudlin, if at all possible.

I’ve also always loved “Sisters Are Doin’ It For Themselves,” by Aretha Franklin and the Eurythmics. It’s very powerful, and this sort of up-with-women message seems appropriate for the task at hand. Kind of Red Tent-ish, even. However, I don’t necessarily want my husband to feel…unnecessary. Or excluded. I mean, clearly I didn’t get myself into this condition by myself.

At this point, the only songs I know for sure I’m going to include on the playlist are the Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy,” and “Defying Gravity” from Wicked. Both are just so thrilling, but seem to allow me to concentrate when I’m listening to them.

Right. So, I won’t go through every song on earth; you catch my drift.

I hope you will help.

And really: no suggestions for “Push It.” We are above that kind of pun, no?




*Indeed, when I awoke in the middle of the night last week by a vicious charley horse, my first thought was, “Well, clearly I can’t handle natural child birth, for this leg cramp is about my threshold for pain tolerance.” Um, okay. Actually my first thought was, “WHAT THE @#*% IS WRONG WITH MY CALF? Followed by the aforementioned.

**Yes, I like country music. I can’t help it. I have to admit, when I arrived at my undergraduate university, fresh from New Jersey, I was astounded to find out that there were people my age who actually listened to country music. Back home, the country station was all the way the hell down at the far end of the dial at 92.5, clearly reserved for Pineys But in South Bend, there were, like, multiple country radio stations – and I went to parties where everybody sang along to country songs. Anyway, by the time I graduated, I was a fan. What can you do?

Thanks, Actchy! You never have to apologize for listening to country music at NTB! So, how about it, readers? Any suggestions for Actchy and her husband as they prepare to enter the delivery room and the world of parenthood?