This weekend, Sean (the husband) and I took our childbirth class as the hospital where we plan to have our baby. It's a newer hospital at the south end of town, with fireplaces in the waiting area. The best part of the class? The hospital tour, where we got to see the private labor rooms with their DVD players, jacuzzi tubs, post-birth snacks and during-labor popsicles, and optional birthing balls - which I always thought were called exercise balls, since I've only seen them in gyms, but apparently they are the kind of object that changes names as they change locations.
Our labor instructor had an easy, down-to-earth manner, as she talked about pain management techniques, c-sections, and epidurals. The class was generally fine - generally helpful, without much new information I hadn't already read in a book or heard from friends. She talked about her own, unmedicated 7.5 hour labor, and lead us through the lamaze breathing. Maybe it works wonders while in labor, but chanting ah heee ah heee ah heee ah hooo while in an over air-conditioned basement conference room in a hospital on a sunny day filled me with giggles.
Because it was a crunched weekend class, all of the couples stuck to themselves, and there was little future parent bonding. We stayed in hushed conversations with our partners, only venturing out to ask questions about wearing contact lenses during labor or car seat checks. The labor instructor talked about the TACO test for water breaking, and I've already forgotten what the T stands for but the rest of the letters are Amount, Color, and Odor. One of the men in the class (thankfully, not my husband, who is not squeamish and could tell you far more bodily fluid stories than you would ever wish to hear) talked about being squeamish, and asked how he would be able to check his wife's fluids. He seemed to think that her water would break suddenly, and she would be incapacated, on the floor, unable to do anything but catch discharge in a cup and show it to her husband who, equipped with his TACO knowledge, would step up and decide what to do.
My least favorite part of the class? The video. I am glad that someone - actually, at least a dozen women - has the courage to have their labors filmed and used again and again in an educational setting. I will never be one of them. In fact, I'd like to have some time post-labor to at least brush my hair before anyone tries to take my picture, though that probably won't happen. I am sure that seeing the couples go through the stages of labor, and the vagina shots, was educational in some way, but part of me wished that I could have listened to the lecture and read the book and skipped the visuals. Isn't the book usually better than the movie anyway?
Toward the end of the class, we talked about packing your bags for delivery and what to bring to the hospital. I guess, at almost 31 weeks, I should start thinking about that. I am now at the point in my pregnancy when male coworkers laugh when they see me and say, "Wow, you're really pregnant," triggering my barely-suppressed pregnancy rage. Yes, thank you for correctly identifying my condition; that's so helpful. Yes, I know I should take a deep breath and calm down. Here I am, doing the pregnancy pose in homage to the pregnant celebrities posing on Fame Crawler:
Back to the hospital bag: I'm sure we'll throw in some massage tools, mindless DVDs, snacks, the car seat, clothes for the baby and, of course, a camera. I've also heard that I should bring some nightgowns, and I don't own any hospital-appropriate nightgowns. So, my question for all the mamas who have given birth - what's with the nightgown thing? And, more importantly, what else should we bring for d-day?
