Olive Oil or Pam?

Rick and I attended our first childbirth class last week.  The online summary of the course said little in the way of specifics.  I figured we would get a tour of the hospital as well as some information regarding what to expect while we're there.  We showed up right as the class was about the start and took our seats in the front row.  Within the first five minutes it was clear that my husband and I are NOT. FRONT. ROW. PEOPLE.  Our teacher, Shama, picture a polish woman with a heavy and at times difficult to understand accent, dove right in to what I can only describe as a "Baby Mama" moment.  If you haven't seen the movie, I suggest you stop reading and go out and rent it ASAP.  This blog entry will be a lot more entertaining if you picture me as Amy Poehler, Rick as Tina Fey, and Shama as the childbirth teacher with the heavy lisp.  Shama begins by talking about how to prepare for labor and delivery.  At first I wasn't quite sure if I was hearing her correctly...it sounded like she just said, "rub olive oil on your perineum 4-6 weeks out from your due date."  I felt myself instantly blush.  Then she continued, "Or for fun play time have your husband do it!"  I knew I hadn't misheard what she'd said because Rick's hand immediately covered his face to keep him from laughing.  And this was just the first five minutes!

Things only got more awkward from there.  Shama spent a good portion of the evening on all fours pretending she was in labor and showing us how to breathe through her fake contractions while gyrating on the floor.  I have never wanted a back row seat so much in my life.  We are back row people!  I refused to look in Rick's direction for fear of completely losing it.  Clearly we are not mature enough for the likes of this class!  And if Shama's demonstration wasn't enough, she then decided it was our turn to make fools of ourselves on the floor.  The next thing I knew I was on all fours making figure eights with my hips while a room full of husbands sat back in their chairs with court side views of our backsides.  Oh the joys of pregnancy!  The class continued with a tour of the hospital.  Finally, I felt like I could breathe.  Clearly this wouldn't be embarrassing.  It's a tour.  We should play no part in this tour.  I was SO WRONG.  Shama takes us into one of the hospital's private rooms.  At the Vail Medical Center you labor, deliver, and recover in the same room.  She begins explaining how the bed works and pointing out where the husband will spend the night.  I finally felt myself relax.  This wasn't so bad.  Aside from the fact that I couldn't stop thinking about what sorts of bodily fluids had most recently covered the floor we were standing on, yuck, at least we weren't shielding our eyes from Shama pretending to labor on her side.  And then things took a turn for the crazy.  After Shama finished showing us how the bed worked she proceeded to hop right on and, you guessed it, pretend she was laboring!  We saw Shama labor on all fours, labor on her side, and even try to push a nonexistent infant out in the traditional "feet in the stirrups" way.  All aboard the crazy train!  I looked around at the other 10 couples and it was apparent they felt the same way we did.  Some were pretending to check their watches, others were gazing out the windows or rubbing their partners backs.  Anything to distract from the visual on the bed!  If it weren't for the laboring sounds, oh the sounds, you might have been able to retreat to a happy place in your mind and forget any of this ever happened.  Shama finally got off the bed, sigh.  And I thought the worst was over.  I should have known by this point that it's always going to get more awkward when it comes to childbirth class.  "Now it is your turn to get on the bed ladies.  You go first."  Shama, you did NOT just point to me.  I almost said screw it and ran out of the room.  However, we'd yet to learn about epidurals and that was obviously enough of an incentive for me to take my first step forward.  The next thing I knew I was on all fours pretending to labor on the bed sans the labor sounds.  Who do you think I am?!  Shama told Rick to stand behind me and grab my hips.  Then she instructed him to push my hips back and forth.  And this is when I lost it.  I burst out laughing and there was no holding it in.  I pictured all 10 couples in a semi circle around us watching me labor on the bed while Rick gyrated my body forward and backward.  It was too much!  Shama asked, "Does it feel good?"  I couldn't even breathe.  Are you kidding me?!  I am mortified Shama!  This is like a bad dream where you go to give a presentation in front of a large audience and discover you're in your underwear.  Only I'm on a hospital bed laboring on a table on all fours while my husband shoves my hips back and forth!  The bad dream finally ended and I got off the table as gracefully as one who is 8 months pregnant can IE like a drunken elephant.  I then got to watch each of the other couples take their turn in hell only solidifying for me how ridiculous I must have looked while I was up there.
The class ended with a video that reiterated everything Shama spent the past 3 hours demonstrating.  As if Shama's reinactments weren't enough!  Sigh.  I'm officially traumatized.

Where's That Stork?

As the weeks have progressed and 15 weeks pregnant became 23 weeks pregnant, which became 30 weeks pregnant, I find my anxieties regarding labor and delivery increasing.  For awhile I did a great job of just not thinking about it.  I kept myself busy fretting over registry decisions and finding pants that fit.  But now that Charlie (yes, that's his name!) is constantly making his presence known, I can't help but think, if your kicks are that strong and my ribs are this sore, what the heck is going to happen when you decide to leave my uterus?!  It doesn't help that the moment a woman sees you're pregnant she decides to unload her most horrific labor story on you.  It doesn't matter who it happened to, everybody knows someone, who knows someone, who's wife ripped in half and never recovered.  This wakes me up at night in a cold sweat.  I find myself repeatedly reminding Rick, "Don't forget, you're in charge of making sure I get that epidural.  You know what that is right?  You know how serious this is?  You. KNOW. RIIIIIGHT?"  He assures me it will be fine, but I let's be honest, he doesn't have a clue.  What I need is one of those women who has been ripped in half during delivery and put back together.  She will know how dire the situation is and will do anything to protect me from that pain.   I'd pay good money for someone to get me that epidural within moments of me screaming for it.  If you'd like the job please email me your qualifications ASAP.

Aside from my increasing anxieties regarding the actual birth, I've definitely started to get the nesting bug.  Now that I've had a family shower and my friend shower is this weekend, I'm starting to acquire lots of fun things.  We've got a crib (thank you Fendells!), a stroller (thank you women in my family!), and the pack n' play (thank you parents!), not to mention a host of little goodies including adorable clothes, blankets, and accessories.  It's currently all sitting in Charlie's room waiting to be put to good use.  Last night I spent some time measuring out the size of a dresser we found on sale at Pottery Barn.  And we are waiting for our glider to be delivered.  The cats can sense the impending change on the horizon.  They're not sure what is coming down the pipe, but they know it's going to be big, like move their litter box to the basement big!  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about how Rooney is going to react.  She prides herself on being the baby of the family and has both Rick and I wrapped around her little paw.  Just last week I came home and fed the cats before heading to the gym.  Rick got home while I was away and fed them again because of Rooney's desperate cries for food.  He couldn't figure out why Bueller wasn't eating.  Needless to say, Rooney is going to have a rude awakening!  If anyone has tips on how to handle cats and newborns, please send them my way!

I mentioned that I attended a shower last weekend.  My aunt Becky and cousin Sarah threw me a fabulous family shower on Easter.  It was a great party with the women in my family.  Rick joined us and proceeded to win two out of three party games.  I guess that means he's ready to be a dad!

Here he is chatting with Grandma on the phone while simultaneously hanging Charlie's laundry and holding him securely like a football...not sure about that hold but we'll work on it!

Do we look like we'll be good parents?!

We got some great outfits for Charlie.  This one is for hanging around the house.  Like father, like son!

Thank you for the beautiful shower!