A Hilarious Birth Plan

Here is an excerpt from the Michelle Henry's article in the Toronto Star on writting her birth plan.


Hi, my name is Michele and I'm in labour. This panic-stricken man to my right, fumbling with my health card, overnight bag and a pack of diapers, is my husband Ted. He will be the only one with me in the delivery room – besides the requisite assortment of nurses and doctors, of course.

But, if nothing's going on and I'm clothed – either in the mumu-type robe I brought to wear or a fastened hospital gown – please do not stop my family from coming in to say hi.

They will undoubtedly be loitering in the hallway.

By now, you've probably noticed that I'm wincing in pain and pretty grumpy. I'll take that epidural the first moment the on-call anesthesiologist is around to administer it. Ideally, I'd wait until I've dilated to four or five centimetres, but I've heard too many horror stories about busy ER nights and low priority preggers.

If the needle doctor won't be around for a while, please let me know. I'll consider my other pain-control options, such as Demerol or a frying pan to the head.

Please monitor the baby's vitals any way you deem proper. I trust in physicians, as my family is replete with them. Still, I'd like to be kept informed and abreast of my options at every turn.

Ted and I will try to amuse ourselves for the next 30-some hours until the baby decides conclusively it would like to leave my womb.

At this large hospital, I'm guessing a young, inexperienced resident will deliver our child. Please make sure he or she is, at least, confident. If not, I will eat said doc-in-training's liver.

Nurses can come and go from my room as they please, just don't tell me how to breathe or to calm down. I'll get annoyed and yell at the already insecure resident.

Under no circumstances will I submit to an episiotomy. Push the baby back in. I'll have a C-section.

Ted will cut the cord. Please fulfill the cord blood kit.

However the baby comes out, vaginally or through surgery, after it passes it's APGAR tests, please make sure to give it the requisite eye drops and vitamin shots as soon as possible. Please wipe the Lentil down, so it can't squirm from my undoubtedly clammy grip, and then let me have him or her. My husband and I will fight to hold our first-born. Ignore us. We're just happy.

If this child's parents are indisposed, we permit the nurses to announce to our relatives the baby's gender. They've been pacing for long enough. They deserve to know immediately.

If the birth goes as planned – fantastic! If it's totally different – fantastic! Frankly, I just want it over with. A healthy baby and a speedy recovery are truly my only goals.

Unless, someone can find me an Aladdin's lamp.