We started Lamaze today...the first of two six-hour sessions. It was, uh, well, interesting. Not bad, mind you, although I was in tears at one point. But not fabulous. Turns out that I don't like doing anything for six hours straight, so I got bored a bunch. And it also turns out that FD and I are more yuppie than hippie and so the touchie-feelie New Age aura that was going on was a bit...uh...out of our league.
- The book that goes along with the class is super informative and answered a bunch of the questions we had. Great stuff - good resource.
- The teacher as well as our classmates were exceedingly nice.
- In the elevator going down to class, another mama-to-be openly looked at my tummy and then commented to her husband "Oh, thank God. We're not the only ones who waited until the last minute to take Lamaze." When we got into class, one of the pieces of information we all shared about ourselves was due dates. The chick who commented on my size is due in two weeks...my "actual" due date is not for six! I take her comment to mean that I am now officially large enough to have attained my own gravitational pull.
- We had a simulated contractions exercise where the teacher clipped a clothespin on a tender part of our ears and had us practice relaxation techniques. I chanted the Air Force song in my head instead of focusing on the music, which is an old technique from when I was in ROTC in college and had to take PFTs after blowing out one of my legs and so needed to redirect pain somehow. Apparently, I need to work harder at not moving my lips, though. Ha, ha!
- I went to class feeling pretty good about the birthing process. I came out of class a bit freaked out, mostly by thinking about the side affects to Bunny and I from all of the drugs that I was (previously?) interested in getting at the hospital, as well as a bit (!!) upset about the thought of not being able to eat a thing once we're checked in and until baby emerges. And with induction looking like the plan, that could be a very long time. Without food. I become hell on wheels if I'm deprived of food. Is it unethical to sneak snacks behind the nurse's back?
- I don't cry easily. I just don't. I think my most masculine trait is that I hate for anyone else to ever see me "weak." But I was in tears during class at one point. Here's why:
The teacher had us practice hip lunges of differing varieties to show us how to open the birth canal in order to prepare to deliver. I can't do them. Period. I have an uncorrected curve in my spine and it has lead to well over a decade of hip issues, including near constant pain that I entirely manage through sucking it up instead of meds. Every other lady in class could do it. I was, arguably, one of the more fit ladies in terms of being toned, but I couldn't handle a simple exercise. I also couldn't handle sitting cross-legged on the floor, stretching forward...and every other lady could. My hip issues cause my knees to have issues because of stress, and so sitting like that was just hell. The teacher came to help us out and tried to manipulate my hips for me...and couldn't. She's a trained massage therapist (in addition to an L&D nurse and a bunch of other credentials) and so tried some sort of massage technique to loosen up my hips. It failed. Completely. And she commented on that. And it made me feel bad. And so I almost cried.
So that was our first session in a nutshell. Next weekend, we'll do the LDR tour, write out a birth plan, and do some other stuff that I've already forgotten.
What was ya'lls experience with classes?