Meanwhile, in the back of the class ...

Like many expecting couples, we enrolled in as many classes as would have us. Two weeks ago was our first class, “Coping with Confidence.” We went and the instructor didn’t show. Some class. We joked and said that it was a test of some sort. That this was a very Zen class and they were quietly testing us to see if we can “cope with confidence.” Funny thing was that after 30 minutes of waiting and the administrator apologizing profusely, Philip and I had the attitude of two theatre undergrads who just ducked a math requirement class. Philip said, “Sweet, can we go back to my dorm now to eat a bowl of cereal and take a nap?” Then we realized that we actually chose to take the class, and we should be irritated and demand that they re-schedule us.

Then we went to our second class; the one-day, eight-hour birthing class. This time, the instructor showed up. She had nameplates like we were on a game show and she gave us candy. Good start. It was very informative. It demystified a lot of things and we walked away feeling that we could perhaps do this and come out the other end (in a manner of speaking). She was very down-to-earth and funny which helped. I went to learn about epidurals and I got everything I needed to know. I am TOTALLY doing it. Yup, it confirmed everything and even after seeing the needle and the catheter, I’m still totally doing it. I’d like to start about 3 days before the labor begins actually but I don't think they do that. I don’t like pain. I had enough of it. Don’t want it. I want to be happy to give birth. Not psychotic. Which is what I’ll be if I don’t get it. I just hope that my labor is not too short that I miss the window. (Philip note: Mimi is the only woman I know who ever wished for a labor that was not short.) That’s when I’ll need help from our Doula. And please God, let her protect Philip from me. Did I mention we have a Doula? We do. She is a former dancer (not that that was a deciding factor, but still it’s cool), she does both birth and post-natal and she is a lactation specialist. She will also come to our house the day after we get back from the hospital and will do whatever we need her to do to help. Love it. Totally need it. Doing it.

Anyway, the class was good. Except that we were misbehaving – quietly so as not to disturb anyone, but still, eight hours is a long time for us to behave. I’m sure that is not a surprise to anyone who knows us. It started when the teacher passed around a stuffed model of placenta. I just had this brilliant idea to produce and sell stuffed dolls for expecting moms like, “placenta boy” and “mucus plug girl.” Kind of like the Ugly Dolls.



It’ll be huge in Japan.

Then we turned to our textbook. There was a drawing of a fetus in-utero ready to come out. I drew a big bow on its head. Philip lowered his head down to the desk and did not come back up for five minutes. Then we behaved for a while and then near the end of the day, we came to another page in our textbook. Under Stage One: Early Labor, there was a column for ” what the partner can do.” Philip wrote in, “put down the comic book” then I wrote, “Don’t play Nintendo.” Under “Transition”, there was a column for “what the laboring woman can do.” I added at the bottom, “punching.” Then we watched various videos. After the fifth time we saw a baby come out of a woman, Philip had had enough and started watching other stuff in the room. (I mean, come on! –Philip) I had too, frankly. In another video, the couple had such thick Massachusetts accents that we couldn’t focus. In yet another, the mother of a woman who was pregnant had on bright orange parachute pants and a white leotard top and again, we couldn’t focus. Then in another, a woman was wearing pleated overalls! I took serious issue with that look. We were like eighth graders. It is hopeless for our Flippy.

At the end of the day, we came out lighter. We felt better about the process and felt like we could do this. After all, we’ve gone through a lot of medical madness together. This will be another one. I spoke to a good friend from back east who has two kids and she said, “This will be a piece of cake for you. This is the good stuff you deserve.” I don’t know about “piece of cake,” but good stuff for sure. I don’t think I’ll have sleepless nights about birth at least for a while. I’ll just have them for other reasons, like being kicked in the ribs from inside.