One of the battles I elected not to fight during this whole pregnancy thing was on the classes to attend. OK, so maybe I battled the quantity of classes, but knowing my wife, I knew there would be classes. Even though I'm relatively certain that, over the course of history, more babies have been born to parents that didn't attend classes than born to parents that have, I knew there would be classes.
Rather than spreading out our required learning over the course of three Wednesday evenings, we binged on expectant parenting and took it all in last Saturday on a session called "The Gift of Motherhood" scheduled from 9 - 4.
Overall, the day was less worthless than I had expected. How's that for a rousing endorsement? On the positive side, during the morning session the instructor did a nice job of explaining what the physiological changes are that take place in the mother's body during and after labor. For some reason, having an explanation about what's actually going on inside (and now knowing what the word effacement means when the doctors use it) gives this whole experience a sense of reality and logic rather than it just being referred to as a miracle or magical.
Every expectant mother there was accompanied by a supporter, with one exception, all of those supporters were the spouse (one woman's husband wasn't able to join so her mother came). As a means to help all of us idiot first-time fathers to understand what our wives were going through, we were forced to where a 35 pound weight suit, complete with breasts and all. Maybe I'm more sensitive than the average father-to-be, but I'm not sure how putting on a weight suit makes me any more sensitive or understanding. I get that my wife has gained weight during the pregnancy. I get that that sucks. I get that that can't be comfortable. I've probably gained 35 pounds since my low weight in India. It sucks. I get it. Wearing a weight suit isn't going to make me a better parent. On the other hand, other than watching David Schwimmer fall of a table on Friends, seeing me in the weight suit is one of the few times you'll hear Lindsay laugh out loud, so it had that going for it which is nice.
Just before lunch the group went on a tour of the birthing section of the hospital. This was another aspect of the class I had made fun of prior to attending. How many other medical procedures are there where you visit the hospital for a look around to get comfortable with your surroundings? While I was skeptical, I must admit that helped to understand the their process, when we'll move from the birthing suite to the recovery suite (yes, it's obnoxious that they call them suites, but I'm using their nomenclature, not mine), and what to expect throughout our stay. It didn't hurt that they also mentioned that both mom and dad get a massage during the stay. Nice to see our healthcare dollars being put to use.
After the tour, the class took a slight turn toward the realistic. They showed a video of three mothers going through labor, answering questions about what it was like, and finally, showing the actual births. I hadn't seen an actual birth on video since high school. They showed it in biology class as a means to understand the reproductive systems but the true motivation behind showing had to be birth control. Seeing a similar video 20 years later was no more "meaningful" or "beautiful" - it was still, honestly, pretty gross. Based on the look of horror on Lindsay's face, it was safe to assume she was going through a similar set of emotions.
Once the scare tactics ended, there was swaddling and diaper application for beginners. Probably things I could have figured out on my own, but always good to get a refresher. I'm pretty sure the last diaper I changed was for the kids I babysat next door when I was in high school. And yes, I realize the fact I have niece and nephew that are eleven months old whose diapers I've never changed makes me a crappy uncle. Even worse that I'm the godfather to the nephew. Something tells me I have more than my fair share coming my way in the next few years.
As we progressed through the afternoon, it was obvious that we didn't have enough material to prolong the class until 4pm. I got that same feeling you get in college or grad school, especially when it's a once-a-week class where it's obvious you're going to get out early. You get giddy. You get excited. It's like you've found time. And so at 3pm when the class ended, we merrily made our way to the car, hit Park Avenue in Winter Park, got a coffee, shopped a little, had an early dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Prato, and made it home by 6:30pm. Not a bad little reward for a day spent in class.
I had expected a painfully slow day filled with people prolonging the class by asking unnecessary questions (everyone knows people like this); thankfully, there was only one extraneous question-asker in the class and the class wasn't that bad (I know, another ringing endorsement). Could I have become a father without attending? Absolutely. Where there parts that annoyed me? Absolutely. Do I regret going? Not terribly. If nothing else, I learned that the late afternoon circuit in Winter Park might be a regular thing once baby arrives and before baby becomes mobile.
Overall, I'd call the day a success.
Rather than spreading out our required learning over the course of three Wednesday evenings, we binged on expectant parenting and took it all in last Saturday on a session called "The Gift of Motherhood" scheduled from 9 - 4.
Overall, the day was less worthless than I had expected. How's that for a rousing endorsement? On the positive side, during the morning session the instructor did a nice job of explaining what the physiological changes are that take place in the mother's body during and after labor. For some reason, having an explanation about what's actually going on inside (and now knowing what the word effacement means when the doctors use it) gives this whole experience a sense of reality and logic rather than it just being referred to as a miracle or magical.
Every expectant mother there was accompanied by a supporter, with one exception, all of those supporters were the spouse (one woman's husband wasn't able to join so her mother came). As a means to help all of us idiot first-time fathers to understand what our wives were going through, we were forced to where a 35 pound weight suit, complete with breasts and all. Maybe I'm more sensitive than the average father-to-be, but I'm not sure how putting on a weight suit makes me any more sensitive or understanding. I get that my wife has gained weight during the pregnancy. I get that that sucks. I get that that can't be comfortable. I've probably gained 35 pounds since my low weight in India. It sucks. I get it. Wearing a weight suit isn't going to make me a better parent. On the other hand, other than watching David Schwimmer fall of a table on Friends, seeing me in the weight suit is one of the few times you'll hear Lindsay laugh out loud, so it had that going for it which is nice.
Just before lunch the group went on a tour of the birthing section of the hospital. This was another aspect of the class I had made fun of prior to attending. How many other medical procedures are there where you visit the hospital for a look around to get comfortable with your surroundings? While I was skeptical, I must admit that helped to understand the their process, when we'll move from the birthing suite to the recovery suite (yes, it's obnoxious that they call them suites, but I'm using their nomenclature, not mine), and what to expect throughout our stay. It didn't hurt that they also mentioned that both mom and dad get a massage during the stay. Nice to see our healthcare dollars being put to use.
After the tour, the class took a slight turn toward the realistic. They showed a video of three mothers going through labor, answering questions about what it was like, and finally, showing the actual births. I hadn't seen an actual birth on video since high school. They showed it in biology class as a means to understand the reproductive systems but the true motivation behind showing had to be birth control. Seeing a similar video 20 years later was no more "meaningful" or "beautiful" - it was still, honestly, pretty gross. Based on the look of horror on Lindsay's face, it was safe to assume she was going through a similar set of emotions.
Once the scare tactics ended, there was swaddling and diaper application for beginners. Probably things I could have figured out on my own, but always good to get a refresher. I'm pretty sure the last diaper I changed was for the kids I babysat next door when I was in high school. And yes, I realize the fact I have niece and nephew that are eleven months old whose diapers I've never changed makes me a crappy uncle. Even worse that I'm the godfather to the nephew. Something tells me I have more than my fair share coming my way in the next few years.
As we progressed through the afternoon, it was obvious that we didn't have enough material to prolong the class until 4pm. I got that same feeling you get in college or grad school, especially when it's a once-a-week class where it's obvious you're going to get out early. You get giddy. You get excited. It's like you've found time. And so at 3pm when the class ended, we merrily made our way to the car, hit Park Avenue in Winter Park, got a coffee, shopped a little, had an early dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Prato, and made it home by 6:30pm. Not a bad little reward for a day spent in class.
I had expected a painfully slow day filled with people prolonging the class by asking unnecessary questions (everyone knows people like this); thankfully, there was only one extraneous question-asker in the class and the class wasn't that bad (I know, another ringing endorsement). Could I have become a father without attending? Absolutely. Where there parts that annoyed me? Absolutely. Do I regret going? Not terribly. If nothing else, I learned that the late afternoon circuit in Winter Park might be a regular thing once baby arrives and before baby becomes mobile.
Overall, I'd call the day a success.
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