“Do we get a grade?” That was Frank’s first question when I told him that we signed up for a birth class. I told him of course not. And then secretly hoped that was true.
When we arrived at the first session I found myself covertly assessing all the other couples in the room. Do they know more than us? Do they already have their crib assembled? Have they read more baby books than we have? Do they know what the heck Braxton Hicks contractions feel like?
When we went around the room and introduced ourselves, one guy mentioned that this was his second marriage and he already had two kids. No fair, I caught myself thinking. He’s a ringer. He already knows all the answers. I immediately felt under prepared.
When the teacher made the rounds asking each of us our birth plan I nervously said, “Can you really have a plan? Isn’t it just going to happen how it’s supposed to happen?” I held my breath, embarrassed that I didn’t have a 4-part answer and a mood board like the woman next to me. The teacher gave me a long look. Oh, God. She knows that I have NO CLUE WHAT I’M DOING. She’s going to tell my doctor that I’m not allowed to be a mother. Then she smiled, nodded and said, “Hope has the right attitude everybody. There is only so much of this journey you can control.”
Frank gave me a discreet high five under the table. Take THAT, guy with two kids! Frank knew that I had pulled that answer out of thin air, and was equally delighted that it appeared to be the right one.
We were acing this class!
…until the instructor played a video of a c-section and Frank starting humming and rocking back and forth to keep from passing out. At that moment we found out there actually can be too much information when it comes to this subject. “Do you think this is going to be on the test?” he whispered to me.
Turns out it wasn’t. But there was a LOT of other stuff that was. And I don’t think any amount of classwork would have prepared us. I’m not sure what grade we got, but I’m pretty sure we passed. (and nobody passed out)
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