Speaking of class

It strikes me that we're halfway through our Birth & Babies classes at the Alberta Children's Hospital. Somehow through all the confusion and panic, I've actually been able to learn a few things. To wit:

• Babies can come early. Lord knows, I've heard stories of kids showing up anywhere from two weeks to three months early. Two tiny babies (one boy, one girl) showed up on Tuesday night with their exhausted parents. Sitting across and looking at the babies sleeping sent a massive adrenaline rush through my back to the point where I found it hard to sit still. It was similar to the feeling just before visiting the newly-opened Nando's in Calgary a few years back.
• I had never heard the term "Irish twins" before, but the moment the instructor said it, I knew exactly what it meant and the reference. My God, that is hilarious (and probably offensive to some people). I have to tell my Dad about it.
• I worried about watching birth videos and after seeing a few, my reaction was negligible. All those years of watching movies featuring things going into vaginas have inured me to the sight of watching something come out of one. Thanks, black market Direct TV!
• There's a lot more to labour and delivery than "Water breaks, go to hospital, have baby, hand out cigars." (Sitcoms lie!) I really didn't think I'd have that much to do with this whole process, but it's impossible to not want to be involved at a crucial level. There is a lot that can happen quite suddenly so I have to be of clear mind and purpose as chaos reigns.
• That reminds me, one of my undone to-do items is "Research cigars".
• Breastfeeding is fascinating - as if I didn't love boobs already, they can feed a newborn child! Is there anything they can't do?
• Using a stripped-down Melissa & Doug puppet to simulate breastfeeding won me over completely.
• The Alberta Children's Hospital is a beautiful facility that I hope to never spend much time in after this class is over. Every Tuesday when we go there are kids in hospital beds and hooked up to IV playing bingo in the main area. It brings back far too many memories of spending so much time at NYGH up until about age ten. If I close my eyes, the smell of my thrown-up apple juice comes back.
• I didn't know my mom had an episiotomy when I was born until last week when I asked how her labour went.
• The Canadian in me wants to rage when I see the American spelling of "labor".
• The class allays some fears, but raises new ones. You create a birth plan, but everything can change and it's out of your control. Almost every waking thought is a worried one about my sweet wife, what she's endured for the past 38 weeks, and what is still to come. I keep telling myself that as long as the story ends with a happy and healthy Tiffy holding a happy and healthy Robert Jr., it will be worth it.
• I know I won't be allowed to name the baby Robert Jr. or Roberta, despite my intense lobbying.

To end this brain diarrhoea, let me just say that class would be a lot more fun if a womanizer came to support one of the moms-to-be: