birthing class

So we’re taking a birthing class, along with seven other expecting, deer-in-the-headlights couples. This fact has provided my co-workers with endless teasing material, as it seems like every proposed social gathering lately has fallen on the same night, forcing me to choose between acting shady and antisocial, or sending out an awkward “sorry, I have to go to my birthing class tonight” email.

The classes themselves have been O.K., but sitting still and paying attention for two and a half hours after a full day of work has proven difficult. What I really look forward to are the birth videos. They all seem to have been filmed when 80s fashion was at its absolute lowest point, so at times it’s hard to relate to the people involved. I find myself thinking things like “can I be an adequate birth partner without a mustache?” and “maybe Julia’s labor won’t be that bad if she doesn’t feather her hair.”

The post-birth interviews are excellent, too. The couples all smile calmly while they recall their birth experiences, like they’re giving testimonials on some late-night self-help infomercial. “I never thought an epidural could work for me, but it changed my life.” [husband with man-perm nods in agreement]

After we watched the first birth video, I seemed to be the only person in class who wasn’t horrified. Since I’d already read a book (well, at least the first 100 pages) about the whole process, it was kind of cool to see the visual representation of what I already knew. But when I told Julia this after class, she snapped, “Yeah, that’s because you don’t have to squeeze one of those out of you.” Kind of hard to argue with that logic.

Pregnancy offers it’s own unique and fascinating set of medical terminology, my favorite of which are “Braxton Hicks contractions” – harmless little contractions that occur throughout pregnancy. I think Braxton Hicks sounds like an obscure old R&B band – didn’t Braxton Hicks and The Soul Contractions used to open for Earth, Wind and Fire?

The woman who teaches the classes is a wealth of information and anecdotes about the birthing process, and last week she dropped the following gem on us: nurses will often provide you with significantly better care if you buy them donuts or cookies – “nothing fancy” she says.

That’s all it takes? I mean, I’m more than willing to throw down for some sweets, but shouldn’t these nurses hold out for more? Champagne? A couple of steaks, at least? We’re talking about a fairly important medical procedure here. And it’s not like people are just going to pick up and head over to another hospital. As long as you’re shameless enough to be susceptible to bribes, why not see how far you can push it? Don’t think donuts, think Dunkin Donuts stock.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to throw on an old Braxton Hicks record and trim my mustache. I’ve got to look nice for the nurses.