So, yea. I need to preface this story with the fact that I am not proud of our behavior. We are children, of this I am quite aware. But I also know that my husband and I are jovial people. We laugh a lot and even if we have the senses of humor of 12 year olds, I still love that we laugh easily and heartily. Just maybe we need to work on our timing.
So childbirth classes. My husband was not thrilled with having to attend these classes from the start and I won’t lie, I wasn’t enthused myself. But knowing that drugs are off the table for us, it seemed reasonable that we should try to educate ourselves on what was going to happen and a few non-medicinal ways to manage the excruciating pain that I’m about to face.
The woman who teaches the class is…nice. Like, one of those super touchy, feely nice people. The best way I can describe her is that I can imagine that her house is decorated exclusively in Precious Moments paraphernalia, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
So she introduces herself, tells us she is a nurse who has worked extensively with pregnant women. She goes on to describe all the areas of the hospital she has worked in and then admits, casually, that the only area of maternal medicine she hasn’t worked in is labor and delivery. Um. WHAT? My childbirth instructor has never worked in labor and delivery? Sweet.
Later she tried to tell us that if no one signed up for snacks there would be no snacks at the next several classes, but she got flustered and said sex instead. Which of course made me laugh (I know), but I did it silently and covered it up with a cough. To which the person in front of me turned around and said, “you’re coughing.” How do you respond to that? It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t concern, it was like she was narrating. I wanted to reply with “water is wet” but she turned back around and instead took to asking the instructor the same question about doctors breaking water 800 times because if she kept asking it, eventually the instructor would know the answer.
It kind of went downhill from here.
They cleared out the chairs and had us get on our yoga mats on the floor, turned out the lights, turned on some Enya and had men start massaging the women. My husband, being a doctor, was struggling with the jaw massage and was instead kind of assessing my lymph nodes, which was NOT relaxing. That was when we started laughing.
A moment later, Enya still playing, the instructor had all the women get on their hands and knees and the men knelt behind them. Lest you think we are the only awful people, the couple next to us laughed at the awkwardness of the positioning because, uh, this is not something people typically do in public. And then the men were instructed in a massage technique for the women’s hips. In a soothing, almost seductive voice, the instructor said, “don’t worry, she’ll let you know if she wants it harder.”
And I lost it.
I know. I’m terrible. It was the combination of the position, the tone of her voice, the music. Everything. I didn’t just laugh, I straight up snorted. And then I died of embarrassment.
After the awkward all fours massage, we meditated. The women leaned against the men, we all closed our eyes, and the first thing the instructor said was, “You’re feeling very heavy…” and that was when my husband lost it because she was talking to a room of giant pregnant women. And he just never got himself back together. The instructor tried to get us to imagine a beach and by the time she asked us what we smelled in our meditation, my husband was completely done. I’m not going to pretend like I wasn’t laughing, but I was at least doing it silently. He literally had to leave the room to get himself together.
10 minutes later the class was over and we waited until coughing lady began asking the instructor the same question for the 300th time before we
ran snuck out, embarrassed and hysterically laughing.
Not only do we have 3 more weeks of this class, but the instructor is also our breastfeeding class teacher. You guys, we are so screwed. I’m pretty sure that if our instructor has any say in it, we won’t be allowed to bring our child home, on account of the fact that we are in fact, still children ourselves.