Our third class began with the introduction of a new instructor to go along with Joan Bradford (I’m sure somebody will get the reference) (anyone?) (ok here’s the requisite Wikipedia entry ) and our suspected Canadian labor and delivery nurse. The latest “Oracle of birthing wisdom” did indeed have children of her own, and in fact had grandchildren, having just returned from visiting with them. She brought pictures. Many pictures.
The focus of this particular class was a thorough discussion of something called “the birth plan.” The theory is that, as with any major task in life, labor should be thoroughly designed and thought out, with steps put into Microsoft Project, Gantt charts created, deliverables mapped out, and post launch maintenance and support plans in place. The birth plan should also apparently be filed with all the relevant government agencies, permits acquired, and background checks performed. It’s very intensive.
Now Kim and I aren’t really the planning types. Well. I am not really the planning type. I’m the kind of guy that, when asked to build a dog house, would go get a pile of wood and “make it work”. This is in stark contrast to the rest of my family. My father and grandfather, for example, designed and built a shed in our backyard that architects believe will stand well into the next ice age. They did not “make it work.”
So in order to get a head start on the birthing plan, we found ourselves facing 40 yellow (light canary, I would guess) cards on a table in front of us. Each card represented decisions or features of the labor process, with differing ideas on either side. Epidural or no epidural for example. Birthing ball or no birthing ball. Father in room during birth, father in car driving away from hospital as fast as possible. Things like that. The “game” occurred in several stages. The first stage was going through each card and deciding which of the two options we preferred.
In most cases, of course, that was whatever she preferred. Which is entirely fine with me. It surprises me when husbands heavily weigh in on questions of medicating their pregnant wife during labor. Here’s my take: labor seems to be a god awful painful thing to do, something men will probably never experience. While seeing my wife in pain (however much she deserves it for forcing this baby upon us) of course upsets me, if she feels the need to grin and bear (down) without the use of drugs, who am I to insist otherwise? Granted, if I was in the same situation I would be frolicking about in Lalaland, having lengthy discussions with the fairies that lived in the walls and drooling uncontrollably, but it’s her body and what she wishes to endure is ok by me.
After we had made our choices, the next stage was to pick the 6 most important of the 40 to us. Being the “granola” folk that we apparently are, we chose things like “no epidural” and “no episiotomy” and “liquor in the delivery room.” Going around the room, it was clear that these were not popular choices – based on the poll of the rest of the room, this class was much less labor class and much more Narcotics Anonymous.
Now we were presented with the following situation: the doctor comes in and declares that there are “issues” and we need to pick 6 things from our list that we have to give up. This was relatively easy as we all dumped the “fluff” decisions – birthing ball, shower/tub, inlaws. Then we were asked to pick 6 more. It started getting tougher. Then six more. Suddenly it becomes very difficult to figure out what to give up and what not to. It turned out to be a very eye-opening process, and did a good job of illustrating the purpose of a birth plan. And how quickly it can turn to @#$@.
After the game, we were given a quick run down on some of the medical interventions that can occur as part of the labor process. Things like Pitocin, which is apparently crystal meth for uteruses. (Uteri?) Or the medical device that is used to break the amniotic sac, or the ‘bag of waters.’ (Really? Medical science giving something a name that accurately describes what it is? Bizarre.) This device has some high-fallutin’ name – I call it a knitting hook. We finished our intervention discussion with the requisite video – gross as always.
After a short break, we reconvened in the gymnasium for lunges, squat thrusts and medicine ball practice. This was all part of something called the ‘labor stations’ which was designed to introduce us to a variety of positions that can be used during labor to help manage pain and/or provide for hilarious photography. The ‘birthing ball’ was a popular feature in these stations, as a comfy way for the mom to be to attempt some of the various positions, and to provide endless hours for dad to go ‘bowling for cats’ to pass the time. Other stations features a variety of devices to be used on the wife’s back – funky shaped massage devices, socks filled with tennis balls, and the rolling pin. These devices can also be used to ’subdue’ hysterical husbands in a pinch.
Another informative class, rife with eccentricities that provide fodder for the blog. Just a few classes left – and with no syllabus who knows what next week may bring? More cause for hilarity, I hope…
