Friday, 11 April 2014

A rude midwife - Series 1, part 5

For those of you joining in now, check out previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3 and part 4. This is turning out to be quite long! Hang in there! 

"Having moved, she launches into a fresh description of how we should move up from our toes to our thighs, under the 'mother band' into our midriff area. You may be asking yourself several things at this point. First of all, what is a mother band? And how does one move under it? And why? Rest assured I was doing the same while trying to look suitably concentrated in order to not be caught out for not having done my homework.

Coming back to that first pressing question: the mother band is apparently a bit of tissue cradling the, shall we call them, 'procreating organs' in order not to go into too much medical detail. In order to move under it, we should be picturing ourselves being made of sand, like a beach, with water soaking up from our feet to our upper bodies and  pouring out again. She also likens this movement to the following description: ‘most of you are quite slim here, but those of us with a bit more weight know what it is like to pull your stomach in, over the edge of the trousers, like you are folding a flap inwards. You just grab your flab, with your hands, and stuff it back in the trousers. That’s exactly the kind of movement I am looking for.’ At this point I was trying very, very hard not to turn beet red with embarrassment for the poor slightly overweight mother of two in the course sitting right next to the midwife. All the while the other two first-time Moms, with foreheads knit in concentration, moved along to the exercise, slumping while the water soaked up and sitting up again while it poured out. I don't know about them, but I felt like either a drunk person, weaving even when sat down, or someone being exorcised of a particularly unpleasant daemon.

So, while we are all wildly weaving about, the babies decided they needed some attention too and the two girls in the group started stirring. Maybe our movements were freaking them out? You never know. And, while the second-time Mom managed to pacify hers quite quickly, the first-time Mom next to me was struggling a bit with her little one, who just seemed to want to talk, and screech a bit, which as a baby seems fair enough. We continue weaving, while the midwife's face starts twitching in increasingly short intervals. After a couple minutes of this, she puts on what I suppose is meant to be a smile, turns to the Mother of the little girl and says: 'She really does need something now. Either you feed her or put her down.' The Mom turns beet red, grabs her offending daughter and jiggles her about wildly. Eventually the startled baby quiets down."

And next time we will be closing this series with the final instalment of my adventures with the midwife who didn't like babies. 'See' you soon! 

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