Even though it is widely said that nothing can prepare you for parenthood, that doesn't stop us as a society from making every attempt to do just that. There are a ton of books (most of which I own), magazines (some of which I read), and websites (a lot of which I look at) out there that try to delude us into thinking that we have some kind of a handle on the situation. To that end, Ivan and I have been attending classes at St. Peter's Hospital (where Baby H will be born- as were my siblings and I, by the way!) the past two Saturdays. Two weeks ago was Breast Feeding, this past week was Baby Care, and we'll finish up this Saturday with Lamaze.
As I've mentioned before, we've been told by some people that the classes are completely unnecessary and that the process is the most natural thing in the world, but Ivan and I are of the mindset that the more information we can get our hands on, the better and we also feel that it's a bit of a right of passage. Recently, my mom had me cleaning out some memory boxes of mine that were still at her house. She and Poppy (my dad!) have completely re-done my brother's old bedroom to be a couples'/baby suite (complete with crib!) and with the renovation came the decree that we need to "get our crap outta here." (By the way, they totally put us to shame, completing their baby room when we were just getting starting on ours). While going through my baby box, I found all kinds of amazing things- a calendar on which my mom marked all of the important moments from my first year of life, the outfit they brought me home in, newspapers from the day I was born. Among the most endearing things, however, were the hand-written notes my dad had taken at the classes he and my mom took in preparation of my arrival.
They say that girls marry men who remind them of their dads. There have been many times when I have thought this to be true of myself (like when Ivan talks like Donald Duck- one of my dad's classics- or makes fun of me (teasing his children is my dad's favorite pastime). Luckily, though, the similarities don't end with their penchant for mockery. My dad has always been extremely "hands on" when it comes to fatherhood. Hmmm... that makes it sound like he beat us, which he did, but only in our nightly wrestling matches which to this day have a possibility of occurring, depending on the severity of the insult that is hurled in my dad's direction (usually by my brother). Actually, I can add "Haven't had a good fight with my dad or been able to jump in when he's tormenting Zandar or my brother" to my list of things that I've missed since becoming pregnant. Anyway, what I meant by "hands on" can best be illustrated by the assertion that both of my parents, after bringing me home from the hospital as a newborn, would literally race and stumble over each other to be the first to get to me when I cried. My dad has never shied away from anything parent-related, saying that it was my mom's territory or anything like that. On the contrary, he was involved in every aspect of our upbringing and I know that Ivan is going to be the same way. And for having both of these amazing men in my life, I know I am truly blessed.
All that being said, Ivan did balk just slightly on precipice of Breast Feeding class. About five minutes before we got in the car, he asked me, "Wait, should I bring my laptop, in case they won't let me in?" "Um, what?" I replied. "Well, do you think I'm going to be the only guy there? What if they don't let men in? I should bring it just in case." "What- exactly- do you think is going to happen in this class?" I asked, through slightly narrowed eyes. "I don't know- I'm just nervous, like if you all have your boobs out, where am I gonna look?"
(a pause so that can sink in.)
Me: We are NOT going to take our BOOBS out.
Ivan: Are you sure? What if you have to? And what if you had to go to a class where all of the men had to be exposed. Wouldn't you not know where to look?
Now, this conversation led me to believe that my husband of 2+ years does not know me in the slightest. Because a room full of exposed men sounds to me like the seventh circle of Hell and the only place I'd be looking would be at the door- longingly, planning my escape.
I wish I could say that I make these conversations up for your amusement, Ladies, but alas, this actually happened. It was one of those moments where I just couldn't muster up anything to say. I just wished desperately that there was a camera that I could turn to and give a blank stare, a la The Office.
I don't need to tell you that Breast Feeding class was far tamer than Ivan had imagined. In fact, it was taught by an elderly woman, which I found to be a little strange, but she obviously knew her lactation, and the class was only slightly scary. I could have done without the diagram of the compressed nipple in the baby's mouth, but what are you going to do? I don't know why I have so much anxiety surrounding the idea of breast feeding. It's weird, as I sit here now, it doesn't freak me out, but I know that I have this anxiety because of the dreams I constantly have about this activity. I know I've shared a couple of these dreams that plague me about 2 times a week.
There are few motherly issues that are as emotionally charged as breast feeding- whether or not you are able to or want to do it, how frequently to do so and for how long (duration of sessions and until the child is how old?). Because it is so emotionally charged and because I think it's another thing that comes down to the "you have to do what's right for you and your baby" philosophy, I'm not going to elaborate on the merits of different philosophies. All I will say about the class is that we got to play with baby dolls and Ivan had to tell me to stop cradling and caressing the doll as though it were real- I guess those instincts are starting to kick in!
Baby Care was also interesting. I have to say, I was the Hermione Granger of Baby Care class. For my non- Harry Potter fans (what is wrong with you?!) that means that I was kind of the teacher's pet. Every question the instructor quizzed us on, my hand was in the air. Now, it helps that I have a fabulous student teacher so I can sit at my desk and read a million baby books, soaking up information like a little mommy-to-be sponge. I'll be happy to pass along these books the next first time moms to be- and they'll be pre-highlighted for you! I'm sure the rest of the people in the baby care class were super-impressed, and by super-impressed, I mean probably annoyed by me. I didn't care though- some of the questions they were asking our instructor made me literally cringe in fear for their unborn children. We got to play with the dolls again- this time dressing them, diapering them, "bathing" them, and if you're Ivan, balancing them on one hand while looking at your wife expectantly for some kind of recognition.
I'm most interested in this Saturday's class though- Lamaze. I've been pushing (no pun intended) most thoughts of labor out of my mind for these past 8 months, thinking that if I can ignore it, maybe Baby H will will magically and painlessly appear on a magical puff of cloud, preferably pre-diapered. It could happen, right? Well, just in case it doesn't, it will be nice to get some kind of idea of what to expect. Of course I've seen hundreds of scenes of childbirth in movies and on TV, but we know that artistic license is taken with those. And there are the stories of others' experiences, but of course it's going to vary dramatically from woman to woman. So again, I guess there really is no way to prepare oneself, but if anyone has any good ideas, I'm open to them- send them along!
So, as I write this, it is March 22. Do you know what that is? If you guessed one month until my due date, you win the prize. In fact, the over-arching theme of the past week has been people telling me how close I am. When I called to make an interview appointment with a pediatrician (we are, admittedly, behind the eight ball on this) the receptionist squawked, "Five weeks?!" when she asked when the is baby due. The photographer for my maternity photos (being done tomorrow!) said, "We have to move very quickly," when he heard the response to the same question. I've had a couple of co-workers tell me that they don't think I'm making it to my due date. I hope they're wrong! As excited as we are to meet Baby H, there still seems to be a lot to do! Although, at a certain point, I guess we're going to have to stop reading the books, taking the classes, and trying to organize and just dive right in.
Ready or not.
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