Playing hooky/31 weeks

We had our first childbirth class this morning, and there's just such good material from it, I worry that I will not do it justice. OK, let's try.

The class started at 8am, and surprisingly enough, we were very on time this morning. We left the house as planned around 7:20 (maybe it's just getting dressed for work and/or in anything other than stretchy pants that keeps me from being punctual) and stopped at Starbucks on the way. It appears that when you drive down Lake Street before 8 am on a Saturday morning, you tend to make all the stop lights, so we made it to the hospital in a record 15 minutes. AND we scored a non-metered street spot.

We walked into the classroom around 7:45, and there were already four or five couples there. We filled out nametags with our name and Bug's due date -- I was anticipating that we'd have to share due dates at some point, but I wasn't sure if it would be stuck on my left boob the entire day, or maybe just discussed in a circle before class. Left boob. Which invited me to stare at everyone else's nametag trying to determine how much bigger or smaller I was than them. Hmm. What I should have learned from this experience is that pregnant women truly do come in all shapes and sizes. What I actually learned is that I loved Karen because she was due three days afer me and seemed of similar size (with my luck she's having twins, but we'll pretend she's not), and that I hated Chrissy since she was due sometime mid-March, and you could count the ribs in her back when she leaned over. I can't remember if this was before or after she overtly pulled her Coach glasses case out of her fancy leather bag, held them at arm's length, and then spent the next 90 seconds cleaning the lenses before loudly snapping the case shut. Either way, it wasn't necessary.

Since we arrived early, there were plenty of open seats. We took a spot on the aisle in the second row. I apologize now for anything I've ever been late for, because I get how annoying it is when you're on time and then what was scheduled to start at 8 doesn't actually start until closer to 8:15. A couple who walked in at 7:59 enters the row behind us and actually asks another couple who is already seated if they will move over a seat. Even though there are two seats presently available in the row (not to mention an entire front row of unoccupied seats). She apparently needed a buffer seat between her and the person she asked to move. I would have told her I wasn't going to get up.

Stragglers continue to filter in. I look around the room as nonchalantly as possible, although there are two things running through my mind the entire time:

• My ass is already falling asleep and I've only been in this chair for 10 minutes and,
• OMG, all of these people totally had sex with each other

There are people from all walks of life, although we are all white or Asian. Some women are extremely dressed up. Some only halfway. The girl to my right has some sort of fancy silk maternity top on with what appear to be workout pants. Go big or go home, honey. It appears also that the majority of pregnant women are comfortable with maternity jeans. I figure, if you're going to be here all day, what's wrong with stretchy pants? I tell myself "I told you so" when I see that Chrissy's husband is very meat-head looking and is wearing quite possibly the ugliest bright orange Chicago Bears t-shirt I have ever seen.

The instructor finally brings us all to order. It is a full house. There are extra chairs being grabbed from a previously unseen closet to accommodate everyone. I give myself extra personal points for being on time for the first time, ever. She tells everyone that there are beverages in the back, although no coffee, since we can't have all that caffeine! I swear I am mid-sip out of my Starbucks cup when she says this, and I get a few eyeballs. Decaf does exist, people.

She also points out that there are some birthing balls (Matt: "What is the difference between a birthing ball and an exercise ball?") in the corner that we might use later. I debate just taking one now to get me out of the chair. I don't. Matt writes in the notebook "Would it be inappropriate if I got a ball for my feet?" It is 8:20.

After she finishes her introduction, she suggests that we all introduce ourselves to our neighbors. "Share your name, your due date, where you're from, heck, what daycare you're going to use!" I turn to the girl next to me (she of the fancy top and ugly pants/shoes) and she rather enthusiastically introduces herself as Michelle. She also introduces her husband who never even looks up, and consequently I do not remember his name. I assume she will continue to chatter, but she completely stops talking to me after she tells me her name. I ask her when she's due, and it's three days before me. And then the conversation stops again. I decide I don't have the energy to keep trying, so I turn back to face the front.

And it is time for a movie. "There are some images of birth, so if you feel woozy, don't get up, just wave your hand and I'll come over." What, so everyone can stare at you as you slowly slump off your chair? Why does she have to say this in the first place? As someone prone to wooziness, this is like setting a vodka tonic in front of an alcoholic and telling them not to drink. Even though I have watched eighty billion of these videos at home without issue, I start to overheat. (Note: In my defense, it was really stupidly warm in the room. There were 50+ people, half of them pregnant. Wouldn't it have made more sense to err on the side of cold?)

I'm doing OK when the girl to my right starts mildly freaking out. It's as if for the last 31 weeks she has not opened ONE book on pregnancy. There is a giant venus fly trap-looking vagina on screen, and she makes all this noise and buries her head in her husband's shoulder. This is just too much for me. I don't know why her reaction is making me have a reaction, but all of a sudden I feel like passing out and I haven't even been really watching the movie. Great. It is not helping that I am so warm you can probably see my armpit sweat without me even lifting my arms. I drain my water bottle in the hopes that it makes me feel better while also giving me an excuse to get up. Matt and I get up to get water and then I go to the bathroom. It's 8:45.

We return, and the movie is wrapping up. We've moved into the movie Q&A session. I know they say there's no such thing as a stupid question, but really, I think there might be. Besides the relatively obvious ones (like, "can you walk around when you have an epidural?" I get it that they have the "walking type" but shouldn't you know by now that the point of the epidural is lower half paralysis?) there are also some very bizarre, personal questions being asked that are really only helpful to the person asking them. I want to lean over and say, "these might be good questions to discuss with your doctor." Have you been going to your prenatal appointments?

We have our first break session, and everyone now has a chance to peruse the various posters and displays that have been placed around and outside the room. There are a series of photos that show "normal newborn appearance" and "normal newborn procedures." There is a girl staring at one who has apparently never seen what circumcision actually entails. And her level of repulsion leads me to believe that she is having a boy. Another sees the umbilical cord scab and asks repeatedly, "What is that? What happens to it? Do you, like, go home with it?" No one around her can (or wants to) give her a satisfactory answer. I walk away.

The next piece is the tour of labor and delivery and I'm excited to get up and walk around. As we know, I am rather familar with the Maternal Assessment Center portion of the sixth floor, but I have never seen anything else. The actual labor and delivery room is smaller than I expected. Not in a bad way, but I do not see how you could fit your entire family in it (which I assume is what some people might do, especially the woman who asked if there was a "maximum number" of people who can be with you). It became very real and also sort of scary. That bed looks so small. I am going to be in excruciating pain on the little bed. And somehow shove Bug out.

After the tour it's lunch time and Matt and I head down to the Midtown Global Market which is conveniently connected to the hospital via skyway. On the walk there, I get The Stabs again. Earlier this week, I got The Stabs in the afternoon and called the doctor's office, terrified. It was extremely localized pain in the lower left part of my belly, and did not resemble baby movement or round ligament pain. It felt very similar to the excruciating pain that landed me in the ER around week 6 when they thought I might have had an ectopic. Scary stuff. I ended up in the MAC that night, and I was sent home without incident since Bug sounded "fantastic."

Nothing had happened since then, which was great. And Spot didn't return at all this week, which was Double Great. And then, like I said, walking to lunch the pain came back. We made it to the food (while in pain, I was still quite hungry) and the pain let up as I sat down. I decided I wanted to call, since the whole idea just made me so nervous. For the first time, my doctor was actually the doctor on call. We made it through lunch (fresh falafel and hummus from Holy Land - heaven) before she called back. I had this feeling that we would probably be heading back up to the MAC, and I was right (but this wasn't until after I had, as usual, talked myself into circles with the doctor). So much for the afternoon portion of class.

I already knew the MAC was closed (see: tour) and that I needed to go to the nurses station. To my horror, they put me in one of the labor and delivery rooms that we just toured. I felt so dumb. I don't know why I feel so dumb when I come there, but I do. She puts me on the bed, leaves, and I start to cry. Not due to pain, but due to the frustration of being back in this situation again. Why can't it just be easy?

She walks back in and seems (in my opinion) overly concerned about why I'm crying. Is hormones an acceptable answer? I explain it all to her and she palpates (read: squishes) my belly all around. I think OB exemplifies the idea of "practicing" medicine because they never seem to know what's wrong. But I am comforted that she is able to rule out any sort of placental abruption or equally horrible condition.

I'm hooked up to the monitor and not two minutes into it Bug releases probably the most violent movement of her life so far, and completely falls off the radar. The nurse comes in a few minutes later and can't find her at first, but finally does and leaves again. A half hour passes and the nurse comes back and says that I'm finished, and the baby sounds just great.

I should feel better that she sounds just fine, but I would still love to know what's causing the pain. This nurse, like all others I have encountered at the hospital, is incredibly nice. She says to me what is possibly the best thing anyone could ever say, and manages to allay all of my (imagined) anxieties about having to call the on-call doctor and come into the MAC. She tells me that I am simply being a good parent by being concerned about the baby and wanting to make sure everything is OK. She says that all she and the other nurses want is to send me back home with a healthy baby still in my tummy. I try not to cry while she is telling me all of these things, and somehow I don't.

Matt and I decide not to return to class. I can't decide if I want a Dairy Queen or just a bag of Starburst candy. We end up at Target with a bag of Starburst. I am not sad that we missed the last half of class. And tonight, as usual, there will be the hour where no one can talk to me because I'm counting Bug's movements. And there better be no sass when I predictably get upset (STOP TALKING TO ME, SHE'S ONLY DONE FIVE, AND IT'S BEEN TWENTY MINUTES) and then fifteen minutes later when asked how many there have been I mumble out "17."

How far along? 31 weeks, 2 days
Total weight gain/loss: Gain.
Maternity clothes? Still hate jeans.
Stretch marks? Nope
Sleep: Every other night it's pretty good. Otherwise it's only in two hour increments.
Best moment this week: I got my nails done
Movement: Every time I think she has a predictable pattern, she breaks it.
Food cravings: Starburst
Gender: Girl.
Belly button in or out? In
Labor Signs: Practice practice.
What I miss: Exercising to release stress
What I am looking forward to: I should say my birthday since it's Wednesday, but it seems anti-climactic this year.
Weekly Wisdom: Better to be safe than sorry.
Milestones: First baby class (half) completed.