Childbirth Learnin'

We are so totally ready to have this kid. Oh, yeah. We know exactly what to expect, where to go, who will be there, why, and what comes next. All this thanks to the joy of childbirth education classes, of which we had four over the course of the last month. We just finished our last one this week, and we couldn't possibly be more prepared.

Let's recap what we learned. I know you'd all like to share in our extensive knowledge.

Week one: Getting to know you
Our educator spent a good 45 minutes blathering on about her pregnancies (some 30+ years ago) and a couple of her daughter's pregnancies. One class participant, who was serving as labor coach to her daughter, also felt the need to chime in every five minutes with details of her own experiences with her four kids. The latter half of the class was spent watching a video about what happens when sperm enters the vagina and fertilizes an egg. Holy shit, so that's what happened?? I had been wondering how I got into this condition! There was also some discussion about how to breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth, as well as how to give hand massages (as a potential relaxation technique for the laboring mother - lucky M!).

Week two: Video Mayhem
I can't tell you a damn thing about our second class beyond the instructor repeating half of what she'd said in the first class, another breathing technique (the "sniff huff"), more "insights" from annoying coach-mother. And The Video. I knew it was going to be rough going the second our instructor started it and everyone in it had that vague ugliness that everyone in the 70s had (hey, I'm not knocking it - I was an ugly child by virtue of my birth in 1974). Everyone in the class giggled their way through several parts - especially us. Then M started getting a little out of control. The laboring 70s woman, with her feathered hair and horse-like teeth, was simply too much. Her geometry teacher husband made it even worse. When he asked her if she wanted anything, she said she'd like juice. His response: "Yeah? Juice?... Yeah." M nearly passed out from trying not to laugh out loud. Then all hell broke loose when ugly 70s lady let out a big grunt and geometry-teacher man responded with, "That was a BIG ONE!" Note to self: don't try to stop yourself from laughing by simply listening to the video instead of watching it. It won't work.

Week Three: Not Your Typical Labor
M and I were quite trepidatious about returning to class, thinking perhaps we would not be able to control our amusement. This was the class where we learned about good stuff like cesarean sections and epidurals. We got another video, too, which showed a "normal" labor along with a few women having non-"normal" labors. Thankfully, M and I were far more mature than usual and hysterical laughing was kept to a minimum. There was also a repeat of just about everything our instructor had shared in the first two classes, and possibly another breathing technique. But frankly, I can't remember at this point. Hooray, annoying mother-coach was not there - presumably because her daughter was busy requiring coaching for her birth.

Week Four: Hospital Tour and Swaddling Your Hideously Ugly Baby
This was easily our most interesting class. After only 10 minutes of repeated information and anecdotes heard in the first three classes, we got to take a stroll through the labor and delivery floor to see where all the "magic" happens. At least places where babies are born have a little more personality than other parts of hospitals, which as a general rule, I dislike immensely. After the tour (during which a few anecdotes were repeated again), we returned to our usual classroom to learn how to bathe and swaddle our babies. When it came to the swaddling, each couple was given its own practice baby. Ours was the ugliest thing you've ever seen. Made out of material similar to that of a Cabbage Patch Kid, it had a pair of painted-on crossed blue eyes, a disgusting tuft of brown hair, a suspicious stain on the back of its head, body-builder shoulders, and a face about a quarter the size of its head. This is the opposite of what I hope comes out of me next month. But hey, we learned how to swaddle our little thing-baby, and what's not good about that?

So, four childbirth education classes, three breathing techniques, countless repetitions of previously discussed pieces of information and anecdotes, and one out-of-control laughing fit, and we graduated with flying colors. Oh, yeah. We're ready for what comes next. No problem.

Best Husband Ever

Last night was the first child-related education class for us. This one was about breastfeeding - how it works, how it doesn't work, and basic techniques.

When I registered for this class, the form indicated that "spouses are welcome and encouraged to attend." I took this to heart, and told M I really wanted him to join me for the class. Granted, I'm the one with the equipment, and thus the one to actually do the deed of feeding Weeble. But from what I can tell, breastfeeding can be tricky business, and women doing it can use all the support they can get - especially from a spouse or partner.

M was mostly on board with the idea of coming to the class. His primary concern was that it's not really a "dad" event, that there would be only expectant mothers attending. I assured him that this couldn't possibly be the case. After all, the registration form encouraged partner participation, and everything I'd read at the threads about this topic at BabyCenter.com indicated that breastfeeding classes were definitely equal opportunity.

As last night's class approached, M had that look about him. The look I know so very well. The look that says, "I don't wanna do this and I'm going to try and get out of it." Before he could even open his mouth, I said, "No way, you are COMING to this class with me and that's it!" Turns out, his concern was putting Ollie pup back in his crate for yet a few more hours (he's not quite trustworthy for a full day of roaming the house just yet). I agreed, this is a lousy situation. But it's a one-time deal, and we don't leave him crated any more than absolutely necessary. As a compromise, we decided to leave him out of the crate for the time we were gone to test his non-destructive inclinations. So with a few pleading moments of "don't eat the couch," we took our leave and headed to the hospital for breastfeeding class.

We walked in - just a minute or two late - and it was immediately clear. I was so very, very wrong. There were no other daddies-to-be. No supportive spouses. M was it. The lone guy in a very mother-oriented class. He (kindly) didn't say anything, but cast me a sardonic sidelong glance, to which I replied, "Not a word." This, of course, was simply my guilt for having dragged him to this class. He was willing to be supportive, but I knew going in that he had his doubts about attending this particular class.

What a guy. I don't know how I got so lucky with this one. He sat through it, and he took it all in with barely any noticeable discomfort. Even the teacher had some props for him, noting that while breastfeeding might seem like strictly a "mom" thing, dads need to be as supportive, knowledgeable, and on board as possible. I couldn't have been prouder. I couldn't help but wonder if all the other expectant moms there were thinking to themselves, "My husband is a dog! Why isn't he here supporting me??" Yep. What a guy. And he's all mine.

During a brief break, I apologized profusely for making him come. I had truly believed there would be many couples there. Why shouldn't there be? Feeding a child - whether the equipment is attached to one parent or there are bottles and formula to mix - should be a family affair. M was so good about it. I couldn't make him stay for the second half. So I sent him home to figure out dinner, entertain Ollie pup, and wait for me to be ready to picked up. He didn't miss too much in the second half - nothing he can't pick up from reading a book or being told by me. And I missed only the pleasure of his presence, and the fact that we're both of the same juvenile mentality to find the same things funny.

What I walked away with from this situation is that I have an awesome, amazing, supportive husband, and I am lucky for it. Not that I didn't already know this. But it's really wonderful to be reminded of it. He put himself out there into a place that was undoubtedly uncomfortable and weird, simply because he knew I wanted him there with me. What a guy.