SESSION III: EXFILTRATION
I definitely tried my best in this session to not be too critical of my peers; after all, we (and by "we", I of course mean "Jan") were birth-newbies as well. There was definitely some helpful information that was presented: for instance, we learned that in order to pay for BGA's birth certificate, we would need to bring a check to the hospital. ...so item #1 on my to-do list quickly became "find a damn check".
Another helpful tip came in the form of an acronym (and gosh-help-me if I don't love a good acronym) that was designed to help us determine if Jan's water has broken appropriately and healthily. Apparently all we need to remember to do is COPE:
C - Color
O - Odor
P - Amount
E - Time
I know what you're thinking. In the moment, I dutifully copied these words down from the slideshow and listened to the instructor discuss it as if it was dogma. My inner grad student was taking over as I could feel myself shutting off my brain and blindly memorizing information without making inferences, when suddenly, I snapped back to reality and realized that this acronym, while cute, was a little confusing. I then spent the next 5 minutes trying to figure out how to decipher it, and this is the best I could come up with:
C - Color: It should be clear. Got it, but is clear a color? Why, then, doesn't the "C" just stand for "clear"?
O - Odor: I suppose it should have one. ...I ain't sniffing it, though. If something gushes forth from betwixt my wife's legs, I guarantee you my initial reaction is not, "What do you suppose that smells like??"
P - Amount: What? "P" isn't short for "amount"! Who wrote this?? Unless they want me to measure the amount of "P" that is now running down my leg because "holy crap, my wife's water broke, we're about to have a baby," this letter is out of place.
E - Time: Ok, that's cheap. No 3rd grade student has ever received anything better than a B on an acrostic poem if they used the last letter from a word instead of the first. That's bush league.
This led to me developing my own acronym to help me remember what to do when Jan's water breaks; I need to remember to FREAK.
F - F***, her water broke.
R - Realize it broke on the upholstery of your car... see "F".
E - Emit a series of shrieks and profanities at drivers in-between wherever you are and the hospital.
A - Act cool; don't do anything to get kicked out of the delivery room (e.g., no animal noises during labor).
K - Klepto: get ready to steal A TON of free baby supplies when the nurses aren't looking.
There's an acronym A-student right there; fine work, Dwight Schrute.
There was also a discussion about the stages of labor through which one will pass. I assumed that the point of this discussion was twofold: 1) to inform the mother about the natural progression of the birthing process and to familiarize her with the benchmarks to be achieved, and 2) to give the father just enough information to look like a complete jackass in front of trained medical personnel, when he starts talking about cervical effacement and at which station the baby is.
Oh, Barbie; if only it was really that easy.
I'd like to also point out before I venture any further that I firmly believe people are fully entitled to bring forth their seed in whichever HEALTHY AND SAFE way that they deem appropriate. If you want to use the squat bar, go natural, have a c-section, be at home... heck, even if you want to give birth in a cave full of bonobos, if it is safe for your baby, go right ahead. I used to joke with Jan that I was going to bring a snorkel, flippers, water wings, and a backyard pool to the hospital for a water birth. (There may have also been mention of a Hibachi, I'm not sure anymore.) The point is: to each their own. No matter what method chosen, though, it should be pretty clear by the time you're thinking about actually delivering that the baby has to somehow transition from inside to outside. ...and this is what seemed to have been lost on some of the people with which I was currently sharing a conference room.
Ourselves, we've chosen to be what we consider "fairly simple". We've done our research, consulted with our doctors, and my wife has bravely adopted the attitude of, "I learned a lot, so I know what I want, but in the end, they're the medical professionals and I can listen to their suggestions." (NOTE: whims of a pregnant woman subject to change at any time.) I know a few people who have given birth in their homes (by either choice or necessity) and personally, I'm fine with that; it's most likely not for me, though. For one, I don't have the time or money to replace the carpets. For another, sometimes we leave takeout containers on the kitchen counter for days because we get too busy (are too lazy) to clean them up; imagine what would happen if we had a pile of soiled, birthed-on linens and pillows. I suppose if I had to pick an approach to actual birthing methodology, I would most likely align with the perspective of Patton Oswalt:
Anyway, I digress. I myself do benefit from some medical training on childbirth, but as I mentioned, I am aware that many others do not. Fine. However, these people around me should probably not have been as absolutely, amazingly, life-alteringly shocked as they were when they watched a relatively work-appropriate clinical film discussing the, um, "physics" of childbirth. ...and I don't mean anything incredibly advanced here: I'm talking {inside baby + hole = outside baby}. Isn't that the whole point of 7th-grade sex education, to make you understand what's going to happen so you too scared to even look down in the shower until you've hit high school??
Comedian Jeff Foxworthy discussed the childbirth process in part of a bit about becoming a father for the first time and how impressed he was with the physical accomplishment of labor. When he mentioned that his buddies tried to cajole him into filming the birth, he said that he couldn't imagine who would want to see that tape (he also suggested that any woman whose husband filmed her labor should be allowed to film her husband's hemorrhoid surgery). He described what he saw as "watching a wet Saint Bernard attempt to come in through the cat door." As a young boy, when I first heard this, I immediately understood the relationship between actions and consequences, even if I didn't understand yet how someone even got pregnant.
My favorite part of the previous session on breastfeeding was when some of the other students came out of their shells and started asking questions. Guess what? That was my favorite part of the birthing session, too. The following few gems were actual queries for which adult humans raised their hands to ask in front of their peers immediately after watching a video explaining, in great detail, the entire birthing process:
"So, does this stuff apply to all women?"
No, dear. You're special; just after your water breaks, Hermione Granger will show up with her textbooks from Potions class, brew up a batch of shrinking potion, and squirt it up into your nether-region. Your child will shrink down and drop right out. Don't worry about any of those contractions, dilations, and such; those are only for muggles.
"Do the vaginal birth procedures apply if I'm having a C-Section?"
I mean, on the surface, this may seem like a completely legitimate question, but in reality, she was asking something along the lines of, "If I'm playing basketball at recess, do I still need a baseball glove?" In the interest of being nice though (as the instructor was), I will answer your question: "No, if you're not having this type of birth, than the procedures for this type of birth don't apply to you. ...also, remember when you were digging in your purse earlier because you couldn't find your lipstick and makeup mirror? That's when the video covered C-Sections." (True story, girlfriend was NOT paying attention at all.)
"So, you're saying we won't know our cervix size until we get to the hospital?"
Well, that depends: how good are your powers of estimation? "Hmm, I'm feeling like I'm about 3 centimeters; guess I'll put that pot roast in the oven after all." I can appreciate that you may actually be considering not rushing off to the hospital if you think you're going to be in early-labor stage for a long time, I really do. That's actually quite smart. But how exactly do you propose checking your cervical dilation outside of the hospital? Oh, shucks, I should've waited for your follow-up question...
"Is there a way that I can check how dilated I am by myself at home?"
...knock. yourself. out. Beyond the fact that I have only a little faith in America as a whole to understand the metric system, what are the physics behind how she's planning to approach measuring this? Does she have a crotch-height road cone with measurement rings drawn onto it or something? The instructor tried to get creative in her answer, but eventually put forth, "A way to measure without going to the hospital?? ...Sure, go to the doctor's office."
In all seriousness though, despite my observations, sidebar comments, and furious transcribing of questions and answers, my wife sat beside me taking it all in. I stole glances of her during the video and the presentation, and there she sat, strong and stalwart while gingerly caressing her abdomen. Afterwards I caught her eyes and non-verbally asked her, "are you ok?" She looked back at me like I was an idiot. I followed up with her once we had left the building that afternoon, and she said to me, "Hey, baby girl's gotta get out somehow, right? Might as well just get it done." My wife, ladies and gentlemen. She saw it all unfold before her on a film that was made during a decade when disposable razor blades were apparently not readily available to women and still took it all in stride. Even after hearing the phrase "Ring of Fire" about 15 times, she looked like she was ready to film her own pregame UnderArmour commercial.
Sorry Johnny, but you should've gotten the copyright.
So now, we're playing the waiting game. As I write this, Jan is resting, although most assuredly uncomfortably, upstairs in bed; ensconced in a pregnancy pillow, she's most likely dreaming of a time when she can once again sleep on her stomach. She wrote a note to BGA on a whiteboard last week for our 36-week-picture that read, "Mom's sick of carrying you, it's Dad's turn for a while," and man oh man, I can't wait. The carrier is actually fully adjusted and ready to go. There's only one person who knows when it's gonna be go-time, though, and that person is currently "underwater". ...so I guess I had better dig out my snorkel.
Ready fora water birth!!
Bill Cosby did a pregnancy routine long ago; his instruction to men to simulate childbirth: Take your lower lip...and pull it over your head! Love it!
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