Birthing Class.

I would really like to have a drug free birth.  I heard there was a certain type of class I should take to learn how to make it easier to go drug free.  I also heard that people that participate in and teach these classes are pretty gung-ho about all this, and that they sometimes can get a little radical.  They often paint doctors in a bad light and cause women to fear doctors and hospitals.  So I emailed the instructor and voiced my concerns just asking her if she thought this class would still be a good fit for me, considering I was not interested in hearing about why I should fear my doctor or hospital, and also that I am not fully committed to a natural birth.  She assured me it would still be a great class. 

So Stephen and I paid our $50 deposit (of $300 total) and went to our first class this evening.  As one would expect, hippies are generally the type of people that participate in classes like this where everything is natural, etc.  More power to them.  I have nothing against hippies, and even have friends that are hippies.  This class fit that mold exactly, with the exception of me and Stephen.  Our instructor brought a snack which was homemade yogurt, home grown strawberries, and homegrown cantaloupe.  Now, I like to eat healthy, but let me tell you, homemade yogurt is gross, and all the homegrown strawberries and cantaloupe in the world cannot make it worth eating. 

But on to the class.  It was me and Stephen and two other couples.  That's right, two.  That should have been my first clue.  A birthing class is not the setting that you want to be in such small numbers.  You are talking about slightly awkward things, not to mention the awkward videos you are watching (yes, even in the first class!) and the strange positions you are getting into, you can't exactly snicker from the back of the room.  We were only about 3 feet away from our instructor and everyone else in the room.  Our instructor brought her two kids to class.  So every few minutes, in the middle of some awkward birthing statistic or pelvic demonstration, her children interrupted to tattle that the other one drank 11 glasses of water. 

We played a "True/False" game of statistics and medical facts.  One of my favorite "true" statements was "Doctors kill more people than heart attacks."  This is when I first got a little irritated.  We moved on to awkward jokes about her children and more statistics on how many people die in hospitals. We then spent the next hour of the class talking about the history of natural child birth.  Apparently it began in the 1950s.  Funny, because I thought maybe Eve was the pioneer to natural child birth.  We then spent the second hour of the class doing exercises and relaxation techniques.  The class was suppose to last from 7 to 9, by the way.  At one point, all the women were laying on the floor, and our husbands had to hover over us and watch us tense every muscle- touch it to see what it felt like, then we would relax that muscle- and he'd touch it to see what that felt like.  His assignment for the week was to watch me sleep.  No thanks.  Then for the NEXT hour, I honestly don't know what we did besides watch a video from the 60s of five natural births.  Of course these women had NO pain, and were basically in a state of euphoria for labor. How nice!

Class was finally over at 10pm (uh hello! I am pregnant here...don't we need to go to bed???) and the instructor wanted to ask me about my clotting disorder.  Immediately she questioned the medication I am on and "could not believe" that my doctor was going to induce me at 39 weeks because that is SO early.  I forgot to remind her that he went to school for 10 years and has delivered thousands of babies, and she got certified to teach a class.  She continued to babble statistics and stuff, and I was flustered and felt like she was attacking my decisions for me and our baby.  That did it for me.  I decided that we just paid $50 to sit through 3 hours of awkwardness.  As we walked out, I was still containing my anger, and Stephen sheepishly asks me what I thought.  I told him we weren't going back, and immediately he was giddy.  He said he'd been thinking for some time during the class about how much money he'd pay to not have to go back, and it was well over $50.