What is a "birthing class?"
I've been fielding that question a whole lot lately. Namely because I have to explain why I'm unavailable to anyone who wants to make any plans or do anything on a Wednesday night between 6:30-8:30 p.m. from now until the baby is born. Most people have an acute lack of understanding as to exactly what a birthing class is, and a further query as to why I would have to be in attendance, other than for obvious moral support.
It's a smallish class of first time breeders who yearn for more education about the life-changing process they're already going through. Basically, where facts trump wives' tales and experience reaches the unexperienced.
My basic grasp of it going in was that we are outright paying someone to tell us about which cocoa butter to buy, how to properly breathe while in labor, and a few other minor tips and tricks to put mommy-to-be's mind at ease. While I still have a blind faith that most of this will be covered during the six week span, so far it has resembled a support group and remedial sex-ed combined. Interesting? To say the least.
Jenni was really looking forward to this going in. Being this is her maiden voyage into motherhood, she's dying to get any help she can to settle her busy little mind. I agreed to go with her, knowing this could indeed get weird and wondering to myself if I would be the only guy in a room full of very pregnant women. She really wanted me there. And if nothing else, the experience would be... unique.
Upon entering the first class, I noticed 6 other couples already spread out across the room. The guys looked a bit timid, much like I was, and the semi-blank expressions and polite half-smiles on their faces told me that this was also not their idea. Jen and I proceeded to sign in and partake in the free cookies and lemonade to the right. Once the class started, the teacher introduced herself as a life-long nurse and a mother herself and came off as very warm and friendly.
Over the next two hours, we got to watch slides of what the female body looked like from the inside, complete with color-coded organs. Not only did I get a good visual of the layout of Jen's digestive and reproductive areas, I also learned priceless nuggets such as "your baby is swimming in it's own urine" and "make sure to pack a tube sock full of flakseeds in your hospital bag."
We got to watch a short movie about different types of pregnant women and their unique experiences during pregnancy. Not to be Roger Ebert at a birthing class, but this thing was poorly acted... all the women actors faked some kind of discomfort that was probably meant to be back pain but ended up looking like they had gas. I also couldn't help but notice that they decided to cast one white couple, one black couple, one hispanic couple and one woman who was pretty much abandoned by her sperm donor. Apparently it's super-important to maintain diversity and cover all the stereotypes during a 15 minute infomercial.
The teacher also covered how the baby would exit the body (in case there were still lasting suspicions that a stork will be coming), which managed to fill Jenni with that massive burst of fear and terror that we had both been procrastinating: yep, it's gonna get even bigger, and then violently and with limited warning, it's going to do a cannonball through your hips and lady parts with little regard for either.
I really did not want Jenni to concentrate on that part yet. I was hoping we'd still deal with buying stuff for the baby, how to organize the room, what to name her (apparently "baby" isn't working), etc. Now I have to try to get that petrified, speechless look off her face... you know, like the kind of look Bambi must have had when her mom died. It's kind of like a six book series where they give away the ending in the first book. Thank you very much, know-it-all teacher.
What could be in store for us tonight? I can't begin to imagine. :-)
No comments:
Post a Comment