Thursday, June 28, 2007

Graduated

Mrs. Rodius and I officially received our Birthin' Class Diploma last night. Last week, the teacher hung a poster just inside the classroom door. It asked: "What one thing can reduce the likelihood of c-section, decrease the need for pain medication, reduce the use of forceps, vacuums, and other interventions, improve latching on for breastfeeding, and increase a mother's satisfaction with the entire birth experience?" We were encouraged to write our guess on the poster. Some of the guesses were yoga, or emotional support, and one brown-noser wrote, "this class!" They were all good guesses, but not what she was looking for. If I tell you that the teacher is a doula, it's easy to see the answer coming, though: a doula of course!

This week, we entered the classroom to a dry-erase board full of "Resources for More Information on Doulas," so after we spent the first half of our last class discussing c-sections, I was afraid the second half of the evening, after the obligatory pregnant chick pee break, was going to be entirely a hard-sell session. Thankfully, though, she kept the doula marketing to a minimum.

Dutch at sweet juniper! called birthing classes "Fifteen hours of your life you'll never get back." I didn't feel that way about it. I consider myself an educated guy, fairly well-read, and the subject does interest me, so I know a little about it. Even if there wasn't a lot of information in the class that I didn't already know, though, it felt good to talk through it all with someone who was experienced and with a roomful of other people who were just as nervous or more so as we were. I'm usually not a group activity kind of guy, but I enjoyed the feeling of being in it with other people this time.

I did try to get Mrs. Rodius to skip the last half of the last class with me, though. The dry-erase board said we would be doing a "birthing rehearsal." Like I said, I'm not a group activity kind of guy, and the thought of a birthing rehearsal really kind of turned me off, I think for a couple of reasons.

One, performance anxiety. The doula had led the women through breathing and relaxation exercises each week, with a clothespin to pinch the ear to simulate a contraction. Some of the partners really got into their supporting role during these fake contractions, stroking the mother's hair, whispering encouragement to her. I kind of tried to, but I felt self-conscious, and I didn't want to compete for the position of Best Supporting Actor.

Two, how useful an exercise could it really be? Mrs. Rodius and I are both very familiar with the standard relaxation exercises. They're the same body awareness and focused relaxation techniques used in hypnosis and meditation, and we'd both used them throughout our lives. I had first encountered the techniques in the fourth through sixth grades, in a gifted-and-talented program called REACH ("Realizing Excellence in Academic Cognition Heuristically." What does Heuristically mean? Hell if I know...) Once a week, we spent half an hour in a guided breathing and relaxation session. When I think about it now, I can't imagine a public school committing resources to a similar program in elementary education, though it was the one thing about that program that has stuck with me the longest and proven the most useful in my life. In high school, I also played around with self-hypnosis and successfully blew my own mind by actually changing the temperature of my skin, verified by thermometer, by visualizing a heat source near it. So I just didn't think one more session of breathing through fake contractions with a clothespin on her ear would really change things much for Mrs. Rodius.

So I tried to get her to cut class. But she wouldn't do it.

"What about the diploma?" she said.

"What do I need with a birthing class diploma?" I asked. But I should've already known the correct answer:

"Put it in the scrapbook!" she said.

I should've known. She's been planning baby scrapbooks longer than she's been planning for a baby. I think she got her first Little Suzy's Zoo stickers three years ago. So we stuck around, and we graduated. And we've got the document to prove it. Come by our place some time next year, and I'll show you the scrapbook.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

Oh Lord, the memories.

Yes, the clothespin on the ear. In some places, it is the ice cub squeezed in the fist. It is all a giant ploy to make women THINK that they can master the technique of natural childbirth...and then the first contraction hits.

And you realize you are royally fucked.

That is not to say that you can't do natural childbirth. I did natural childbirth. My sister did natural childbirth. My mom did natural childbirth.

It can be done.

But the breathing? Not so much. It's called "let's just hold on and try not to die on this roller coaster ride through the circles of hell"

I hope Mrs. Rodius doesn't read your blog. If she does, I apologize. YOU CAN DO IT MRS. RODIUS! I HAVE FAITH IN YOU.

As for me? I loved the birthing class. I got to go see the infant nursery. And we have our diploma.

anniemcq said...

There is no diploma in the world that will be as sweet as the sight of that little baby's head.
This post got me kind of sentimental and goopy. Of course I'm whacked out on my own special brand of hormones (the old kind), but it brought back such great memories. I am so, so excited for you two.

Anonymous said...

Congratulations on the graduation! I totally hear you on the positives of Birthing class. I found much less of interest in breathing techniques and kegel exercises, and much more in the women comparing their respective levels of morning sickness, or back pain or any other list of maladies.

Minivan Mom did natural childbirth. There was a point (right at transition, I believe) that I looked into her eyes and saw that she believed she was going to die. That was when I had to sit down and put my head between my knees.

Admittedly, I had come unprepared. She went into labor at around 1am, and her contractions were already 2 minutes apart. So, I didn't think to grab myself a snack or two to make it through the night.

So, at about 4am, when Minivan Mom is going through transition, I'm already not feeling very well. It was at this point that the nurse walked in and said, "Dad, can I get you a cup of Apple Juice? You don't look so good."

As you can imagine, the woman next to me bracing herself to push a 7-lbs infant through her birth canal found this scenario freakin' hilarious.

I still haven't lived it down.

I, Rodius said...

mm, the nursery was definitely a highlight. I thought they'd all be cocooned up in their hats and blankets, but some of them were just chillin' in a diaper, working on their tans under the heat lamps.

anniemcq, sentimental and goopy. That's me all over the place these days. It ain't a bad way to be.

St. Richard (I'm still laughing over that dillhole thing. Please tell me you two didn't script it; it was just too perfect), I did enjoy the couple of "me too!" moments the ladies had when they discovered they weren't the only ones with ankles as thick as their thighs. Ah, good times.

PureLight said...

Congrats to you and my dear Mrs. Rodius. This makes me remember how unprepared I was for YOUR birth, though I'd already survived the arrival of your brother. I mean, no birthing classes, no doula, no ultrasound, no clue. So, do you think you'll do a doula, do ya, huh?

I, Rodius said...

No, I doubt we'll do a doula, though no doubt the doula doers do it best.

PureLight said...

I declare, you have doubtless done the dumb doula dance to death, dear. You win!

Mommy Mo said...

OMG, I love your wife already. I LOVE LOVE LOVE the fact that she wanted to complete the birthing class in order to receive her diploma in order to put it in new baby's scrapbook. Sounds exactly like something I would do. Lisa

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