In Jason's defense, he was the one male who looked completely at ease. After all the horror stories I bring home from my shifts on a trauma floor, I think I pretty well convinced him that labor and delivery was mere child's play in comparison (oh, we shall see, I know - stop laughing...).
The class was taught by a male RN, which is no big deal these days, except that he was a labor & delivery nurse for something like 15 years, and the only male L&D nurse ever hired at the hospital (and people, it's a LARGE hospital). And he was this ex-military guy with a long salt-and-pepper ponytail who jingled his change constantly in his pockets while he lectured - and did I mention he lectured for 8 hours? - and instead of concentrating on listening to pain relief options and possible birthing positions, I was mostly thinking of the 286 ways I would go completely berserk if the RN spending their next 12 hour shift with me was this Change Jingler while I was trying to relax and breathe.
As with every class like this one, we ended up watching some rather lame, 20-year-old videos of expectant parents, live births, and even a few C-sections. Speaking of those C-section videos, have you ever heard the sound of blood simultaneously draining out of the faces of 30 people? It was quite loud, I tell you, and just slightly amusing to me. From my perspective, the videos were quite un-gory... but then again, I see freshly burned skin and exposed bones on a daily basis, so what do I know?
Aside from some momentary face-smacking reality of just how messy and bloody birth can really be, most of the lame videos featuring Dorothy Hamill Hair were actually quite positive and reassuring: normal, happy birth outcomes are the norm and the majority of experiences. You've probably seen something similar, even if you've never attended a birthing class: calming folksy guitar music in the background, the video montage of tearful moms snuggling in bed with their newborns while Dad kisses Mom's head in relief, maybe a syrupy song lyric or two about the sanctity and wonder of Motherhood.
And wouldn't you know, the class I expected to be somewhat boring and information-only? It got me pretty excited about this whole birthing process. Everything. The pushing, the begging for an epidural, the wild grimacing, the folk music montage - all of it. Truthfully, I haven't had much of an opportunity lately to think much about that part - between getting settled in to our new home and the stresses of my job, I've been more inclined to just head for a long nap than to wonder at the marvel of the growing belly. My mom, who is chin-deep in the same grueling nursing program I did a few years ago, hasn't really had the time or resources to be all excited and ooh-ahh with me over this first pregnancy even though she lives in our same house; I have no sisters, and most of the rest of my family is scattered about the country. With all of those factors combined, along with the blessing of a physically-easy pregnancy so far, I could easily forget that I was even pregnant, much less well into trimester #3, were it not for the constant kicks and undulations going on in my uterus. Going to Lamaze class was like a huge red sign: Yes, you are SOON TO GIVE BIRTH. And it's going to be MIND-BLOWING. I'd kind of forgotten all of that, somehow.
In a few weeks, I get to wear a pretty
Speaking of that undulating belly? Check it out:
30 weeks, in our backyard (yay! We have a backyard!).
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