Birthing Classes Rated

[April 26, 2010]

Birth Class: INFANT CPR AND SAFETY
Props: Baby doll that you can breathe into and it's chest will expand. Rubber face wrapped around doll head reminded me of West World. Repeat after me, "Car seats, car seats, car seats, car seats, car seats, car seats, car seats, car seats, CAR SEATS, CAR SEATS, CAR SEATs, Car Seats! Car Seats! CAAAR SEEEATS!"
Fellow Classmates: Jackass dude with his head in his iPhone playing games, laughing at inappropriate times during the video, no affection for pregnant partner or interest in being there. Probably drunk. One couple was 45 hundred years old with twins (how did THAT happen?). Everyone else was noticeably unattractive.
Instructor: Mildly entertaining. Suburban over-tanned, proud mom of two 20 something girls. Bubbly but not all that annoying.
Summary: How to give Cardio Respiratory Resuscitation to your baby when they choke on a hot dog (a food apparently designed to kill babies) or just stop breathing altogether. How to not kill your baby. Things that will kill your baby include blankets, crib bumpers, sleeping on stomach, parents looking away from their baby for one second.
Class grade: B-


Birth Class: BIRTHING (all day)
Props: A lot of DVDs, a black baby, birthing ball, bucket of ice (for putting your hand in to simulate a contraction to practice breathing techniques to get through the pain during 30, 45, and 90 second segments. It hurt like hell!)
Fellow Classmates: International Microsoft Suburbanites. We had lunch with a few of them. One guy had a thick accent, but looked like a tan American. His wife was definitely Indonesian. Some moron asked where he was from and he gave the dreaded, "Take a guess." She guessed Spain and he laughed at her. Then he asked me, an innocent bystander. Quickly thinking of a way to cover for my Amero-centric ignorance, I blurted out, "Microsoft?" Which was true and then he told us Israel and we all let out our breath.
Instructor(s): Old mommy first half, butch gym coach second half.
Summary: What happens when a baby is born. The horror of labor. Medications that speed up labor, kill the pain and all of the insane amounts of side effects that come from those interventions. The demon possession of contractions. "The placenta is huge!"
Class Grade: C+


Birth Class: BREASTFEEDING
Props: Fake babies, I mean dolls, chart of the variety of breasts/areola as well as the changes they take on during pregnancy/breastfeeding, a plush stuffed-animal-esque breast that turns inside-out to show how milk flows. (When the instructor first turned it inside-out the whole class almost went down like the interns in the opening credits to Quincy M.E.).
Fellow Classmates: Class consisted of four preggers only two of which brought their husbands. I was one of those poor bastards.
Instructor: Whisper-talker trying to make everything she said sound meaningful and serious.
Summary: Uncomfortable AND a waste of time. The awkwardness level was off the charts. At one point the instructor said, and I'm not making this up, "Areola comes in all sizes. Am I right, fellas?" (she looked at us for what felt like a 45 minute pause waiting for a reply) "Guys! You're supposed to say 'I don't know!'" For most of the class we watched a DVD narrated by the latest expert in the field, some Australian grandma. Also, it turns out breastfeeding is easy, dummies! Countless times the instructor tilted her head back, put her finger to her nose (indicating the nipple) and brought it down, "and baby will root around and latch on no problem." Yeah, right. It's not just that baby that sucks...
Class Grade:D+


Birth Class: CONSCIOUS FATHERING
Props: Asian baby girl doll, onesies, pajamas, diapers, swaddling blanket
Fellow Classmates: Jam-packed with about 27 dudes, several coming in late and not getting a practice baby and having to sit on the side. Oh, and one preggers too. One guy not only came in late, but he brought his wife! The instructor stopped the class and fake invited her to stay OR she could mill around outside until it was over. She decidedly said she'd stay taking up a seat so some other poor sap had to sit on the side by himself with no doll, blanket, or diapers. Yeah, we all knew who wielded the whip in their house. What a winner. The menfolk varied from indie-folk bearded guys to just-took-their-ties-off corporate drones to bewildered blue-collar macho types.
Instructor: A balding unbelievably average Joe whose voice sounded exactly like Juno's dad.
Summary: (This class I dreaded the most. The name alone was enough to make me wanna run for the hills. Carey suggested if I didn't like it I could leave at the break. Duh. So with fear and trepidation I took my seat and my doll and tried not to go into a panic attack out when the first order of business was to hold our doll-babies in a few different positions.) Pertinent information on infants' needs and practical skills on handling your newborn. Using the provided CPR baby, we learned how to clothe and disrobe a baby, change a diaper, appropriately burp the baby, swaddle, and best positions to not drop the baby. After the halfway point break, only two guys bailed. The class turned out to be very empowering and not anything like the name. In the end I evaluated the class with high marks, but asked that they change the name. Conscious Fathering sounds vague and wimpy not at all like the practical, informative class that it describes.
Class Grade: A-