Meet Beck

It’s a tough morning when you wake up to find yourself to be conservative. I used to have long hair (no, really, stop laughing), took a road trip to N. Carolina to see the Dead, and wound up scaring some poor gas station guy in Tennessee asking for directions. I’ve gone weeks without showering or shaving. So was I so resistant to hiring a doula?

There were the images of earth mothers holding crystals over Corrie’s belly with patulie smoke filling the room. Chanting Tibetan prayers during contractions. Considering naming our daughter “Freedom”. You get the idea.

Long, long story made short, we’ve come around to the idea that a doula would actually be a great help. In short, they stay with us throughout the whole process, while Doctors and nurses come and go. She’ll be at our house if we want, while Corrie handles the early stages of labor. She can run out and get snacks so I don’t have to leave her. She’d be another set of shoulders to lean on if Corrie finds the more advanced squats helpful during contractions, etc. Hell, she’d even cook us meals if we asked her to. (I just can’t bring myself to call her to walk the dog though. That seems wrong somehow).
So “Beck” will be our assistant throughout this thing, and will no doubt be featured in the photo essay to be presented later.