Notes from The Birthing Class (Alternative Title: I Don’t Know Nothing ‘Bout Birthing No Babies”)

Randy and I are in the middle of the “Baby Is A’Coming” crash course provided by our hospital. I’ve taken notes in each class, but some (a la Breastfeeding 101…), even I don’t want to relive. Our first (of three) Labor and Delivery class provided some interesting points to ponder. It’s like the Matt and Miriam game – full of philosophical, meaning of life-type questions… and a bunch of stuff I just don’t want to know.


Class One – December 4, 2013

Gone With the Wind Birthing Babies SceneThere are about ten other moms in this birthing class. At least seven are due within days of Eggroll. Look at me, having my first competitive moment involving my daughter…  Tear. You better come out first, Miss Eggroll. We’re not birthing in a coat closet! If there is any chance I’m doing this drug-free, I must have the whirlpool tub.

We just watched a video of a live birth. If I have made it to 33-years-old without seeing this before, why am I subjecting myself to it now when the torture is eminently in my future?!

10 centimeters is bigger than I thought, but I still find myself hoping for a cone-headed baby.

Remember to pack suckers, swimsuit tops, and a picture of Noah.

Must start working on my hamstrings…Looks like squatting is the new birthing room black.

They suggested we come armed with a few musical playlists. A good heavy metal song is what I like when I really need to bare down and get sweaty, but an emotional acoustic number is just what I need when I’m trying to relax. So do I go with “Enter Sandman” while gripping my pillow tight or “Into the Mystic” while rocking that gypsy soul right out of my body?

Eat a sandwich before leaving for the hospital.

We “practiced” contractions using clothespins. Turns out I have a high pain tolerance. That is until you clip a little pinch of underarm skin between two pieces of wood. Holy cats.

It only took one “contraction” for Randy to figure out the pressure I like for my massages. I don’t think he realized he’d be in full Cirque de Soliel mode (i.e. hands on my back, feet on the wall, full body weight on my spine) to get there. That’s the ticket on a good day. I wonder what I’ll require on Game Day.

Pack aspirin, hand cream, and a weight belt for Randy.

As long as Eggroll starts the process right around our normal getting up time (after a good night’s sleep), gives me two hours to shower, eat breakfast and let traffic die down, but then turns in the right direction and makes her appearance by lunch…  We’ve got this! (Yes, I know there is NO way this will happen, but if I’ve got to plan for all the bad scenarios, I can daydream about the “right” way, too, right?!)


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