We had our Prepared Childbirth class yesterday. I freely admit that I am a giant nerd, and as such had been looking forward to the class for months. I knew we’d probably have to do the stupid “he-he-whooo” breathing techniques and that we’d probably see a video of an actual birth. Other than that, I didn’t know what to expect and was quite excited to find out. I woke up early, gathered up my pillows, grabbed my notebook and Mr. Aggie, and set off to be educated.
Remember when we (meaning you and I, internets) talked about why I don’t get excited about things? That belief was reinforced by this class. Allow me to try and describe it for you. It was basically an Idiot’s Guide to Birthing a Human, led by the nurse equivalent of a half-drunk flight attendant. The woman kept smiling like a demented Barbie, forgetting important terms (“another cause of preterm labor is….gosh, I can’t remember right now but it’s a lot like…”), and making inappropriate religious references (“Ooooh, if he’s born on Christmas your baby will share a birthday with Jesus! What could be better than that?”).
I spent the entire day wanting to stab my eye out with my pencil, just to distract myself from the idiocy and to try and erase the images burned into my brain from the three extremely graphic birthing videos. I knew where the baby came from and the basic processes that let to his/her emergence. I didn’t need to see it in living color three times.
The most irritating part was that she had a video, powerpoint, poster, and often a hand-drawn explanation for EVERYTHING. You would have to be a complete idiot to need more than two forms of media to understand these processes, people. I really couldn’t believe the asinine questions people asked–especially the women. (My expectations for men are much lower, as they should be). But when a woman has known for at least twenty weeks that sometime in the near future she’s going to have to push a human out of her ladybits, don’t you think she might want to crack open a book or at least invest in a little google action to find out how the hell that happens?
Another bright spot in the day was observing the couple next to us. They were a little…off. At one point the woman actually started vigorously shaking her belly and baby talking to it. Her husband, understandably, asked wtf she was doing. She replied she was playing with the baby, and that the baby likes it. Oy.
I learned exactly one thing of value (what to do in the event of a prolapsed cord) in six hours. Mr. Aggie reports that he benefited from the class, so that’s good at least. He’s much more interested in our upcoming breastfeeding class, since he is a twelve year old boy.