
In a moment of maternal anxiety, we finally decided to take my midwife’s advice and attend a birth class. Being cheap, and relatively impatient, we took a class that was supposed to be a “natural birth refresher” for second time parents. This meant we did the class all in one Saturday, instead of several afternoons over four weeks. I can only assume they must be reading
What to Expect When Your Expecting cover to cover to fill that time. I’m sure the things we learned in class will be helpful for my labor. But I’m also pretty sure they were trying to prepare us for the squishy nakedness of birth by just embarrassing the snot us right up front. I guess they figure if you can handle the class, then you should have no problems during labor.
Here are some of the gems I picked up:
1. Birth class can be a scared straight experience for husbands. Just take a look at this chart:

If your lovely spouse ever had any reservations about his wife turning into a ferocious she-beast, this would solidify them. I would not show this to your partner before you get pregnant if you ever want him to be on board with the idea. I’m sure in his head he goes to sleep one night with the lovely smiling lady in phase number one, and wakes to the full kabuki nightmare that is stage two.
2. All Parts of Labor can be Explained in Terms of Food:
Your cervix goes from the size of a cheerio to the size of a bagel. Right now, my baby is the size of a pineapple and will soon be the size of a small pumpkin. I feel like a watermelon. When I think about that I get a little hungry. Then I get a little anxious about that pineapple coming out of that bagel. Then the anxiety just makes me hungry again. Cheerio x bagel + pineapplepumpkinmelon = breakfast?
3. You don’t have to do EVERYTHING the pamphlet suggests:

Does anyone notice something odd about this picture? Why is the supposedly laboring woman fully dressed and the man is… well… let’s just say it might be a bit awkward for the nurses.
4. If you don’t make a lot of noise, they might dial up the Pitocin without telling you.
Also birth class is an excellent time to share horror stories.
5. If you don’t know how to make a lot of noise, it’s ok. Birth class will teach you.
Still feeling inhibited? How about if we perch you on all fours or make you squat next to the windowsill? Would you like to be taught how to draw a tree on your spouse’s back while under the watchful eyes of strangers? You can learn it all in birth class.
I cant help thinking, in the moment, you’re gonna do what you’re gonna do, and no amount of practice moaning can actually “prepare” you. Even if you do what you want, that doesn’t mean things will go as planned. I have my doubts about any kind of birth “plans” at all. That’s not to say that I don’t advocate birth education. As someone who’s first maternal instinct was “panic hard and freak out now!” I’d be remiss if I told anyone not to learn as much as they can. Anyone who checked my google history or library records could tell you I’ve been obsessively reading on the subject. Could eating tuna fish give my baby lower SAT scores? Is this Coke I had with lunch going to give her osteoporosis in her 60s? There is so much to worry about, and so little time.
As I started to run out of pop-science mommy guilt books, I started reading memoirs and fiction. Here’s one passage I came across in
Waiting for Birdie by Catherine Newman that stuck with me:
With your first baby, you think (medication) is actually an important decision. Only later do you realize that a) you understand nothing about labor until it is happening to you, and b) birth is just a tiny town--barely a black dot--on the enormous, complicated road map that is the rest of your life as a parent. Mistaking birth for the main event is like thinking that the floral arrangements at your wedding will somehow determine to quality of your marriage . You don’t realize that the hard part--the real part--comes later.
So maybe I’ll relax a little about birth now. I’m going to be a parent. I may never relax about anything else again.