Coping With Weirdos

Yesterday Matt and I had our second baby class, Coping With Labor. It was scheduled to be only three hours long (as opposed to last weekend's all-day time) and focused on specific tips to, well, cope with labor.

This time we were the first ones to arrive around 8:45. I forewent the Starbucks, but mainly because my intestines have started to function opposite of stopped-up. By 9 (class start time) there were only a handful of other couples in the room. I was hoping the class stayed small. We recognized some couples from last week -- including my friend Chrissy. This time she was wearing spandex leggings with a not quite long enough top. And her husband had on, wait for it, a Cabo Wabo t-shirt. High five.

A few minutes after the class started another couple walked in wearing Transitions Lenses. No offense to those who own these, but Matt and I think they are quite possibly the funniest things, ever. So of course I start snickering, and I'm trying to tell him why, but that would require a really obvious 360 in the chair, so I give up. More on them later.

We're up for our first break, and I am sweating like no one's business. I have gone through, I don't know, 64 oz of water in an hour. Matt tells me he almost suggested I wear running shorts and a singlet this time to try and control my sweating. That might have been helpful earlier this morning before I put on my FLEECE SWEATSHIRT. Regardless. We head down to the bathroom, and as I'm leaving, Chrissy is in front of me. I walk out behind her and Matt has this super goofy look on his face...

"She totally didn't realize her shirt wasn't pulled down all the way," he says. "Her pants don't leave much to the imagination"
"Eww, did you see her hoo ha?"
"Totally!"
"Aaaaah grosssss!"

I am not completely convinced she didn't know her shirt wasn't covering, but even still, you'd think if you're going to wear that tight of leggings... no, there is no excuse. Leggings do not equal pants, unless they are of the tapered stirrup variety, you have on a two-sizes-too-big sweatshirt, and it's 1992.

We head back upstairs and watch a movie of "Kristina's birth." Speaking of 1992, the woman in the video is totally wearing denim on denim.

The instructor prefaces the video with "this birth is not the typical birth experience." If it is not a typical experience, then why are you showing it to all of us who have never given birth before? She wasn't kidding, by the way. The woman's labor progresses so fast that she never even has time for the epidural, and the baby comes out in three pushes. Also, she reaches down between her legs and pulls her own baby out. WTF. Not really that helpful at all, plus it gives my husband another chance to snicker in my ear about how small my boobies are (Kristina's were rather... ample). Oh and I forgot to mention that the husband in the video actually says to his wife while she is in labor, "good girl." Good girl? She is not a dog! AND he vigorously rubs her cheeks between his palms right after the baby comes out (like her lower cheeks, with his fingers pointing downward -- I might have to demonstrate later). Double WTF. I tell Matthew he is not allowed to do either, ever.

The instructor opens up for questions. Transitions Male asks if the breathing techniques we discussed would be appropriate for an asthmatic. I assume he is talking about Transitions Female, but she has yet to say a word or make eye contact with anyone. It's starting to get a little creepy. The instructor says that someone with asthma might want to avoid the shallow breathing techniques. He says, "OK." TF still does not look up. Right.

After the video we move on to the interactive part of the class. We were told to bring yoga mats and pillows, and we all spread out on the floor in the back of the room. We are supposed to be trying out some of the labor positions that we see on the posters on the wall. I shit you not, the couple to our left just jumps right into a, umm, very, interesting position that is not specifically on the poster. Later Matt says to me, "that's what you do to make the baby, not to get the baby out." I try not to look because I will laugh.

We get to try a number of different back massage tools, and then practice some hand and foot massages. Transitions Male leaves for a very obvious cigarette break, leaving poor Transitions Female without a partner (wasn't she asthmatic, too??) She just sort of sits there staring at the floor. Weeeeeird. He couldn't have just gone during the movie? As I am looking over at TF trying to figure out the situation, I realize that I can totally see Chrissy's underwear through her pants. Is this girl even for real?

I could just sit on the floor with my pillows all day (and Matt scratching my back). The class lets out a collective sad sigh when she asks us to return to our chairs. I grab one of the "birthing balls" and use that as my chair instead. Much better.

The class wraps up with discussion on different pain medications. Transitions Male pulls out his third and creepiest question yet: "How many times can she ask for the pain medication before I should allow her to have it?" The room falls even more silent. I look at the instructor, and she pauses before she responds, "that is probably a discussion you should have ahead of time." Seriously? This must be why they ask you at your first prenatal appointment if you feel safe at home.

The class finishes (three hours is an ideal length of time) and we head back over to Midtown for some lunch from Holy Land. On our way back, there is a nurse walking the opposite direction in the skyway who asks us (me?) if we're trying to get labor started. Slightly taken aback, I say, "no, not for a few more weeks." I can tell she feels sort of awkward, and I try not to blurt out, "DO I LOOK NINE MONTHS PREGNANT?? CAUSE I'M NOT." Now I have medical professionals telling me I'm big. Just kidding. Sort of.

After the biggest lunch in recent memory, and continued eating throughout the afternoon, Bug is the most active she has ever been. Although I am happy to be feeling her, I dread the following day when she is probably going to be quiet again (and I hope that she is not having seizures or something). To try and make a repeat, I eat like a horse again today. Not sure if this is a good plan or not, but I did seem to feel her more often. Go figure. Matt will have to make the official decision if meltdowns from lack of movement are better or worse than meltdowns from total weight gained so far.