Judging

It’s been a while, again, I know. It’s one of those things where I’ve been moving, I’ve been emotional, I’ve been hormonal, I’ve been nesting, and more recently, I’ve been in a room with a 60-year old nurse with 12 other pregnant couples, learning about childbirth. Today, actually.

I left early. I’ll admit, I used my swollen feet and hands and ankles to my advantage, cried sanctuary, I really did. I had to escape. I mean, first off, the nurse kept pointing to her crotch every couple of seconds. Ew. I’m sure that makes me immature, whatever, but seriously, I was really uncomfortable when she was making us do labor maneuvers with our butts in the air, and she was doing them with us.

I did not want to stare at a 60-year olds suspiciously padded butt….like she was wearing Depends. It’s all I could think about. I kept wondering about it the entire class, kept listening for the tell-tale diaper crinkle, but I think Depends leave you in suspense. That would explain why I saw that one guy at Costco with 3 packs of them. I’m pretty sure I am not alone when I admit that I totally checked his pants to see if he was wearing them RIGHT THEN. I couldn’t tell.

In any case, the class was informative, but the chairs were meant for size 5 girls with cute outie belly buttons, tight shirts, and perfectly done hair. My hair was twisted back into a hasty bun, I was wearing a sun dress (BECAUSE I RIPPED MY ONE PAIR OF MATERNITY JEANS THAT STILL FIT…..RIGHT IN THE CROTCH) and my feet were already swollen before the class even started at 9 in the morning, when I arrived incredibly late because NO ONE TOLD ME where the class was.

Oh, and also, as a side note, I wasn’t aware that Hospitals took time off, but it was 8:59 on a Saturday, and almost every freaking building was closed, except Labor and Delivery and the Emergency Room, but they also looked suspiciously vacant. The two buildings couldn’t have been further apart, and by the time we had the car parked and we were on our way up, I was hissing at my husband to stop “being an anti-social ass” and he was glaring at the elevator that was taking FOREVER….we were a mess by the time we got in there.

So yeah. We left about 7 hours in, we couldn’t handle another creepy 90′s film about incredibly scary looking people having babies. It wasn’t even the fashions. There was a couple that looked like a father-daughter team, NOT husband and wife. The resemblance was so similar, I literally had to gag quietly. And of course, we watched the Natural Birth video first. Lemme tell you something–I was FINE with natural birth after I found out how limiting an epidural was during delivery. And then I watched the video. The woman and the husband both boasted of how she had a high pain tolerance, and handled an episiotomy, and she looked like she wanted to DIE. TO DIE.

So now I don’t even know what to do. I’m gonna try natural, but I wont be afraid to tag the dude with that massive spinal needle and tell him to make it happen.

 

It’s been a long day. I had meltdowns, ripped my husband a new one, felt awful about it, watched Parenthood, which is a huge mistake, by the way, only because I was bawling the entire episode. (“What if my son favors TJ over me?” “What if he’s autistic and we can’t help him?” “What if he turns out to be a little turd and we can’t control him?!”) Yeah. Meltdown City.

I’m ready for this labor to begin and end…..and I’m okay with it not coming. Seriously.

 

BUH.

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