Childbirth Education, round 1

To make a proper introduction, I should state that I expect(ed) next to nothing from this class. It is organized by the Mayo clinic and they say, or believe, that it will prepare us for the grand finale, as well as many other things, ranging from pregnancy and postpartum to infant care. I suppose it does so, if your pregnancy and birth related knowledge equals something an early elementary school kid would know.

Anyway. After our first 2-hour session, I sure do feel prepared to... give birth at home. 

I didn't really like the instructor, unfortunately. She's one of the nurses from the hospital and now that I've met her, I hope she won't be there when day D actually comes. (I kind of hope nobody would be there, really, and that my only option was to deliver on my own and have the raccoons cut the cord, or something. Or I suppose my doctor can be around, for just-in-case purposes.) There were too many ridiculous games she wanted us to play and, I'm sad to say, there are even more to come. The only thing I'm looking forward to is the hospital visit, simply because I'm masochistic - I'll probably freak out even more when I get to see all of the machines and other things they more than likely consider to be necessary.

One of the games was some random card thing, where she dealt them to all the couples and wanted us to say something about things that were written on them. So we had a rather boring lecture about preeclampsia, placenta praevia, fever, premature labor and, guess what else? Something I was given, of course. My card for tonight was this:

Not a big surprise, is it? The instructor also felt the need to answer my question with a yes, when I asked about nausea and vomiting during labor. Apparently that really is a very common thing. Well, shoot, I suppose. She also said they could feed me something through IV if I wanted it, that'd help with nausea, but... well, we'll see. I doubt I'd go as far as to take it, but I don't know how far I'd get if I do puke, either.

She had us ask questions, too, and we were supposed to write them down on a piece of paper and put in her dinosaur-shaped baseball cap. So we did. I used a purple pen, which I had in my hand during all of the class, too, so I must've been really secretive about my question. I wanted to know how much control they would actually give me during my hospital stay and if they thought the whole birthing experience was more about the mother and the baby, or their hospital rules, after all. She was honest and said that, well, they did have rules. I didn't really expect any other answer, either. It does help to have a provider you can trust (oh, really?) and of course you can go over any and all wishes with them, but nobody can guarantee that they will be available when the baby decides to come. (Oh, really?)

So, for now, I am fairly freaked out. If things really are as bad as she made it sound (and I have no reason to believe it can be all that better, at least based on my small sample of women who I have met or heard of, who have given birth in the past XY years at the same hospital), I won't be looking forward to labour and delivery at all. Since we've not yet had a very detailed (and/or final) discussion with our doctor, I will give the whole thing at least some benefit of doubt and wait to see what he has to say about some of the things that bother me, or make me worried. So far, we've been on the same page with the doctor, but I am absolutely aware that he is, after all, employed by the dreadful institution and that he probably can't really do everything I want (as well as everything he wants, either). I know that he doesn't induce unless there are serious medical reasons, so that's good. And I know that there is a huge chance he will be there when I show up. But other than that... I suppose he still needs to tell me how limited his own choices and actions are.

I learned tonight that they don't do routine episiotomies (unless they are part of some whatever procedure that I personally would, or wouldn't agree with or consider it necessary) and that instead they let you tear on your own. I suppose that's something. There is no shaving and enema, which is also good. But there is all kinds of other, pardonmyfrench, shit. Routine IV is something that, according to her words, is very unlikely to be avoided. I actually asked about it, because I don't consider it to be an important precautionary measure. She said they don't do anything but saline, blablabla, and that it's there for, again, all those just-in-case (freaking Justin Timberlake comes to mind every time I write this, wtf.) scenarios, but I'm kind of thinking, hey, you know... if you can't shoot the thing up my vein when I need it, within seconds and all, how am I supposed to trust you with my, as well as my (un/new)born baby's life, if you can't even poke me with a needle?! Again, she said, there'd be a chance my provider would agree to do this. Or, well, not do it.

She said they normally let you delay delivery for up 24 hours once your waters break. Hm. That's better than 12 hours, or no time at all, I guess. Also, per her words, they'd just break them for you, anyway, if you show up at their doorstep in labour, but with the intact sack. (My only response was a strong urge to tell her that I'd break her neck instead, but I kind of kept my mouth shut, for once.) This is pretty bad; this ordeal is kind of making me more aggressive than I normally am. Damnit.

So I guess I wait and see how deep down the drain I'll be sending all of my plans and wishes, from avoiding this and that, to requesting some other this...es and thats. They gave us a worksheet that is, supposedly, going to help me write a birth plan, but now that I've heard just one single fifth of what they want to share with me, I have no idea why I would even waste time on all those words. (I will still do it, though.)

I guess I'll share some of the questions they suggest that I answer, because I've got nothing better to do at the moment.

• What would you like the atmosphere and environment in your labour room be? Do you people seriously care about my wishes? If I said I didn't want tons of people poking and proding me, bright lights and noise, would you really leave me alone?
• Is there anything the staff could do to make your experience more memorable? Is there, really?
• What are your feelings about pain medicine during labour and birth? Well, if I can't even avoid the saline IV, how do you think I go about avoiding the rest of the cocktail?
• Immediately after birth, would you like to have your baby skin-to-skin? Okay, this is the second time you're bringing this up as your kind-of-standard practice, so I might start believing you it is in fact true. 
• If your baby is a boy, do you want him circumcised. Hell no. (Note to self: make a huge sign saying NO NO NO.)
• etc.

Scary, the whole deal. Derek hated the class  probably even more than he thought he was going to and I have to admit I don't really blame him. Like I said, I didn't really expect much of it, but I also didn't think I'd dislike it this much. We'll go back, though, because I want to hear more about the hospital procedures and I really do want to see the hospital machinery.

At least, now we're both more than certain that we need a doula. At least one of them, even though an entire football team might be needed. Perhaps a few baseball bats would help, too. Either way, I need to contact the doula(s) of my choice and see if we can get this figured out.

Ugh. I seem to be feeling all kinds of things at the moment and it's like anything from rage to fear and hopelessness. Shitty. I do have time to get things figured out, but I still don't like the state I'm in.

I wish homebirth was a safe option for us, really.