One of my favorite things about birth is just the utter lack of control.
You can't control when the contractions begin, right in the middle of a terrible thunderstorm that's knocked out the power and the phone lines.
You can't control when they jump from fifteen to nine to seven to five minutes in an hour, the baby sinking lower and lower in your pelvis as you waddle your way around the house in candlelight.
You can't control when a contraction overtakes you right in the entryway to your house, causing you to grip desperately at the console table by the door and spread your legs wide, you're water breaking as you arch your back at the the release of pressure.
You can't control the grunts and gasps leaving your mouth as you waddle to your bedroom, urgently grabbing the phone only to let it clatter to the ground when a new contraction takes hold while the clear static of a dead line comes from the phone.
You can't control the way your belly drops over your lap, the baby sliding down inside you and making its way through your hips. It's coming fast. You had to be close to going into transition, and you had no way to contact anyone for help.
You can't control dropping into a squat, your hands clutching at the bedspread as you let your legs spread wide. "Oh god, " You gasp as your back arches and your belly contacts, "Oh god, I'm pushing!"
You can't control when your body begins pushing for you, the muscles tensing as the head drops through your cervix and begins to bulge out your lips from the sheer size of the baby making it's way through you.
You can't control the noises coming out of you as your lips spread into a teardrop shape, you're hand slipping from the sheets to cup at your bulging pussy. Your hand barely covers the mass that's emerging from you, and for a moment you feel dizzy with worry about how large the head is.
You can't control when the next contraction comes and you have to arch your back again, bearing down on the huge head as the teardrop shape opens even more into a wide, perfect O as the baby slides forward.
You can't control the fluids dripping and squiring out of you, spraying out around the head as you push harder and harder to get the baby out of you.
You can't control the visceral urge to narrate everything happening to you despite the fact that you're alone. "I- I'm stretching!" You cry as more of the head pushes into your hand, "Stretching so much! This baby is so big!" "Mhhh oh god, it's coming out!" You groan, your hand cupping the head as you birth it by the side of your bed, "It's coming out, its coming out of me!" "I'm crowning!" You can't help but scream when the head bursts into a full crown, filling your palm with its incredible weight, "Ooohhhhh I'm pushing it out! I'm giving birth right now!"
You can't control how you squat even lower as the baby's face begins to emerge, the eyebrows popping free with a gush of fluids. The rest of the face requires a bit more effort, the nose stretching you so thin you can feel it tugging behind your poor, abused clit. You rock your hips up and down, trying desperately to force the baby from you as if you're going to dribble it out like a basketball.
You can't control the cry of relief to let out when the head bursts free. "It's head is outtttt--" You moan as your pussy flutters for a brief second after being held open so wide for so long. Your legs shake, threatening to give out a you check for the cord.
You can't control the sound that you make when you look over your shoulder and see your reflection in the mirror. The way your legs are spread, thighs open wide and resting close to the ground as the baby's head hangs so heavily from your stretched pussy.
You can't control the desperate urge to just lay down and birth your baby, so you give in. One hand cradling the head to keep it from being jostled, you lay down on your side, letting the hand that was holding the head now grip behind your knee, hooking your thigh open as the head rotate and the shoulders slot into place.
You can't control the way the shoulders get stuck for a brief second. You push wildly, your thighs trembling and your belly squeezing and your pussy working hard to expel the huge baby inside of you. "Ohhhhh-- Come on baby, " You gasp ruggedly as you throw your head back, pushing hard and clenching your teeth, "Come on, you're so close, I can feel you!" And you certainly can feel the way the shoulders bulge against your hole, stretching you so thin you think for a moment you may tear.
You can't control the gutteral moan that leaves your mouth as you pull your leg up and open, one hand clutching at your huge, contracting belly and the other holding your leg open at the ankle. Your hips stretch do wide you think they may break, but you can't do much about it as the shoulders begin to open you up and you babble nonsense. 'My pussy!" You cry as one shoulder pops through, more fluid splashing out of you as your belly heaves, "Ughhhhh, I'm giving birth-- I'm pushing it out, oh fuck, it's coming out of me!" The second shoulder pushes free to, the rest of the baby coming out with a sick gush onto the floor beneath your sites thighs.
And you certainly can't control when you're water breaks for a second time as you try to catch your breath, a familiar weight dropping through your cervix as your huge stomach contracts again and your first baby begins to wail between your legs.
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