No, I Don’t Want My Birth Filmed. Get That Camera Out of Here.

home insemination Kit

During my first labor, my family was present in the delivery room. I genuinely believed I wanted them there, thinking it would be a fun and memorable experience. Spoiler alert: I was dead wrong.

Once the Pitocin kicked in, the contractions hit me like a freight train. My mom, noticing my discomfort, decided that reading a Martha Stewart article at full volume was the best way to support me. I could practically hear her thoughts: “Just hang in there; this is only the start.” Thanks, Mom, but that was not helping. In fact, I wished she would just leave.

I felt guilty about wanting to kick my family out. After all, I had invited them to witness the birth of my little one, picturing a serene scene filled with candlelight, soft music, and a perfect baby gliding into the world. It was supposed to be magical! Naturally, I thought we had to film this moment for posterity. I imagined cherishing those videos forever.

But the reality was far from that vision. As soon as I sent my family packing, chaos ensued. My bra felt like torture, and after a frantic struggle, I managed to free myself from its clutches, leaving it dangling from my IV like a sad little flag of defeat.

I couldn’t help but reminisce about the beautiful births I had seen in Lamaze class. Those women looked like goddesses, serene and composed. How could anyone want to be filmed in such a state? Just look at me!

While I had seen captivating images of women giving birth, I was anything but captivating. My fantasy birth had vanished. The brand-new video camera we packed for the occasion remained untouched in our hospital bag. Honestly, I would have smashed it to bits if anyone dared to touch it.

This was not a moment meant to be captured. There was no candlelit ambiance or family circle. The baby wasn’t going to slide out gracefully like he was on a water slide, either. I had to let go of all my expectations.

I was drenched in sweat, cursing, and making primal sounds that echoed through the hospital halls. When the staff brought my husband his dinner on an actual silver platter, and he had the audacity to take a break from holding my leg to check out what was for dinner, I lost it. I no longer wanted him in there either. There was absolutely no way I wanted any part of this captured on film.

“Just get out! Actually, stay, but please look away. And for the love of all things holy, do not touch that food!”

Afterward, I struggled with the birthing experience. Why wasn’t it the magical moment I had envisioned? Why couldn’t I embody the delicate flower I imagined giving birth to a tiny delicate flower? Instead, I felt like a feral beast who resented everyone in the room. I couldn’t even bear the thought of hosting friends over for dinner and having my husband whip out the birth video after a few glasses of wine.

When the time came to push, the nurse offered me a mirror to see my baby crowning “since we decided not to film it.” I couldn’t even think straight. I felt like a zombie. All I could muster was, “No, I don’t want to see that. Get this thing out of me now!”

The only thing I wanted was to see my child, happy and healthy, lying on my chest. Film that, take all the pictures you want, even bring the whole family back in again—I was okay with that. But recording the labor, where I sounded like a cat in heat while profusely sweating? Absolutely not.

While many people choose to film their births, and I think that’s wonderful (with just a tinge of jealousy), my experience certainly wasn’t beautiful. Labor did not bring out my best side, and I have no desire to relive or share that with family and friends. And you know what? I am perfectly fine with that.

So when the next baby came along, and then the one after that, the video camera remained at home. We made up for the lack of that footage by capturing countless moments of our kids, where I’m not in the background screaming profanities with my legs in the air and my bra hanging off IV wires. And I’m totally okay with that.

To learn more about home insemination, check out this helpful guide. For an authoritative resource on the topic, visit Make A Mom’s artificial insemination kit page. If you’re looking for more information on IVF, this NHS link is an excellent resource.

In summary, while the idea of filming a birth may seem appealing to some, my experience was far from the picturesque moments I had envisioned. The reality of labor is raw and chaotic, and I have no regrets about not wanting it recorded. With each successive birth, I embraced the precious moments without the pressure of capturing every detail on camera.