Davey wants our baby to be born on Christmas day. It’s a balancing act for sure, because I’m carrying quite a load. If I have any say at all, though, I’d like to oblige him. It’d be pretty wonderful for our whole congregation if Pastor Dave’s first child shared a birthday with Baby Jesus. Don’t you think?
Our doula, Gabby, said early on the best way to prepare for healthy labor is daily perineum massages. She kind of blushed when she told us that. I guess we’re her first clients in the clergy even though she’s the best doula in all of Minnesota.
“Don’t underestimate the comfort of a well-stretched perineum,” she said. And where there’s comfort, I always say, joy is soon to follow.
So Davey set out to find mine: my comfort, my joy, my perineum. There I was on the bed naked from the waist down, legs spread, while he held the booklet up next to me and poked around a bit. Now, I know what you’re thinking, that we’re stereotypical newlyweds who haven’t taken a minute by the light of day to see what’s what down there. But I’ll have you know that Davey’s more than adequate in his marital duties. I mean, I’m with child after all. Gabby tells me I sound freakishly naïve, like I’m from another era. If that were true, I say, I wouldn’t have been so savvy as to hire a doula, now would I?
She’s been an angel. The afternoon with the booklet and the poking, I just wasn’t sure Davey was doing it right. So I called up Gabby and she came right over. Left her flocks a-feeding and drove all the way out from the lake. Even brought almond oil and a hand mirror.
We gathered in the kitchen, all three of us. My job was to squat over the mirror (this was back in the first trimester so my belly wasn’t in the way). Gabby knelt next to me, putting one hand around my backside while the other slid along my front. First, she pointed out my vestibule. Isn’t that a pretty name for it: vestibule? My own personal narthex. Davey leaned in and took a peek, then he sat back at the table with a lemonade and watched Gabby demonstrate.
I learned all the words. After spreading my inner labia with lubricated fingers, she pressed her thumbs an inch into my vagina and applied pressure downwards and out. It sounds clinical, yah? But it wasn’t. It was beautiful.
Gabby said that clitoral stimulation would make the stretching process happen more naturally, and with my legs opened really wide, there was room for my hand alongside of hers. She showed me where to circle my fingers. I looked down at the mirror and saw all my under-workings with our hands pressing and pulling. The sight made my chest tingle and heat up to August, even though it was still only June.
My skin, shiny from the oil and getting wetter, seemed to sing at me. My breath came faster. Although Davey was sitting right there at the kitchen table, I wanted more of Gabby inside me. I pumped her thumbs and she didn’t let go. She scooped into me and knew exactly where to rub. We moved like that together on the floor without saying anything, our bodies a quiet melody. Some might have called it Satan’s power, the way I twitched and swelled and craved having my nipples squeezed, but all I could think was Rejoice! Rejoice!
I knew we hadn’t gone astray by the way Davey looked at us with a gaze of true love and sisterhood.
From that day on, my head’s been chiming with carols. It’s not just because our baby is due any day now. Maybe it’s because Davey and I have done right by my perineum. When he’s busy up at the church with meetings or Bible studies or what have you, I take care of stretching on my own just like Gabby showed us. Been through a good deal of almond oil, don’t you know?
Sometimes, thinking of Christ our Savior’s birth, I wonder how poor Mary’s perineum held up in the manger. Davey tells me it’s best not to worry about that. He says, Let nothing you dismay, sweetheart. Let nothing you dismay.
A new song title goes up every day between now and Christmas.
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And click here to see who else is making merry this December.