Childbirth Education: Round Three. Torture Room Tour.

Been there, done that. I mean, we survived the third class, which included the hospital tour.

The first part of the class was about pain medication and pain management and some weird... something. We were taking a walk from one comfort station to another (in reality, these were just desks scattered around the conference room) and reading random little flash cards with, again, mostly useless information on them. But oh well, right? I mean, I voluntarily signed up for this! During the comfort-trip, we learned that music may or may not benefit you, that you may or may not like essential oils, or that birthing balls can be good for you too. Or can't, depending on your preferences, really. Some people like massage, some don't. Some tennis balls have legs, some don't. Those with legs, apparently, tend to walk out of the hospital and, therefore, we were instructed to bring our own. I tried to imagine juggling the balls in labour, but I failed. I mean, I fail at juggling more than two, maybe three balls, even when I'm not in pain.

(Yes, I do realize that's not quite the purpose of those balls, btw.)

We heard a lot of things about pain medications and that part was beyond scary. I don't mind needles, let alone needle-related talk, but I do mind hearing too much about possible side effects and overall downsides to some decisions or procedures. I never really planned to get an epidural or that other three-letter-thing (some drug that goes into your spine as well), but now I really want them even less. Scary. Too much nausea-related talk, amongst other things. And the idea of being paralyzed, even a tiny bit, freaks me out. I get the chills by just thinking about it, really. If there's anything I really hate (besides puking or even feeling sick to my stomach), it's losing control of my body. Any parts of it. I am even mildly uncomfortable when I get a novocaine shot at the dentist's office. One time they sprayed a tiny bit of lidocaine into my mouth and I nearly started panicking because I couldn't quite control my own swallowing. Or at least it felt that way. So I don't think these two things are for me, really.

The instructor was also talking about something that starts with an N, as well as the letter F, but I don't want those either. These were narcotics administered throgh IV and... they're not really good for the baby, in the first place. On top of that, the main side-effect is nausea and dizziness, so - nope. Can't do it.

What I realy disliked is the amount of time spent talking about pain medication and similar things. I mean, yes, I understand that labour hurts and that it's probably the most painful thing that happens over the course of a woman's life (average woman's, at least). No, I probably really can't imagine how bad it is, but I do strongly believe that it's doable and that the majority of women really are able to give birth without being drugged up their butts. I understand the freedom of choice, all the options and whatnot. That's perfectly fine by me. And I do want those to be available to me, as well, because I seriously can't guarantee that I won't need, or want any of these things. I plan not to, but we'll see. We'll know for sure once it's all done. But, at the same time, do we really need to listen about it this much? I understand that it's partially my fault, because I volutarily agreed to attend these classes while knowing who organized them and what they were going to be like, but... still? I wish they would have made labour and birth sound more women friendly. Or at least less dangerous and scary. I'll just need to get myself a clean toilet brush and use it to wipe off the inside of my head, really. That's kind of how I feel.

Then we went to the hospital. They did promise to wheel me in once I stop by and mention being in labour. I guess a labouring woman is, after all, a semi-disabled patient. So I guess I need to start looking into a pleasant wheelchair ride, too. 

I don't really remember where exactly we were, or actually what the room she stuffed us into was: the instructor overcomplicated the whole introduction to the story. Something was overbooked, so we couldn't go there, and instead she took us somewhere else... blablabla. Either way, the room we were in looked the same as one other hospital room somewhere in that area of the hospital where we went to see Derek's cousin's girlfriend and her baby. There was a weird looking bed in it, but I suppose that's what birthing beds look like. It was pretty low (but they can be raised, I assume) and it was plastic, but covered with some terry cloth thing. Apparently these beds fall apart (ok, are taken apart) when the pushing part of labour approaches. I also learned that my doctor is one of those who don't do the bed-breaking thing which, I suppose, I am okay with (as I never even knew they were beds that fell apart, in the first place!). 

I just did my best to find this beast somewhere online, but nothing looked like it. Most delivery or birthing beds look modern and funky, whereas this thing looked like a poor person's guest room cot from 1960's, or something like that. Either way, I saw no stirrups and I also heard that I wouldn't need to be glued to it. Apparently they would even let me deliver squatting, kneeling or possibly even hanging from the ceiling. I do believe I am incapable of the latter, though, as my arms just aren't strong enough for that kind of thing, even without the extra baby weight. If I am labouring without pain meds and other funky stuff, they'd let me walk around without the baby and other monitors, as well. Cool, I s'pose. The uncool part was the rate of C-sections the instructor brought up. I was curious, so I asked... and perhaps shouldn't have. Brrr. So the rate in the US is something like 30%, she said (33% was the number last time I checked somewhere), while our beloved Mayo Clinic Mankato sits proudly at its higher-thirties. Ugh. Scary. She tried to explain where the numbers were coming from and why they weren't supposed to be so terrifying, but I didn't really care all that much. Uuuuuugh!  (I did also ask at some point if I could just ask for a C-section, and then get one, if I get stuck in labour and they start bugging me with pitocin and other ideas I really don't like, and she said that I actually could, even though it'd still depend on my provider. I'm thinking that, in case things went wrong or unexpected, I'd still rather have a section that to be put through the whole ordeal of drugs and pushing and whatnot.... that would lead to the surgery, regardless.)

We also got to meet the weird plastic thing they use to break your waters (it sure did look like some knitting tool), some probes that get into various cavities (or, ok, just one, really), the infamous forceps (which turned out to be a really scary tong-like tool and it was so rusty and smelled bad that I nearly puked) and then also a vacuum. I have to admit that the latter did look weird and funky and nothing like a real medical piece of equipment. I can't really find a good picture of this thing online either, so I suppose this will be a dull, long post without images, pretty much.

Here's the ugly sack-poking thing. Brrr.

Hmm... what else? I guess it's nice that you are given your room, as opposed to sharing one with who knows how many other women (which would be a lot more common practice in Croatia). You labour alone, deliver alone and recover by yourself, too. (Ok, I guess later on you have your baby, as well as all of your family and friends, too.) There's a flat screen TV on the wall, you get your own bathroom that even includes a bath tub, there's a sink in the room and all of the carts and whatnots that might be needed during delivery (or after). They do drag you elsewhere if you need a C-section, of course. There's also a menu in your room and, as long as you're hungry between the right hours, you can order some awesome hospital specialties. During labour, you're banned from food, though. (Uhoh.) Once you deliver, and both you and the baby are fine, they'll leave you alone for about six hours and then start bugging the baby with its first bath and whatnot. So that's good, too. They won't vaccinate the baby or give it the vitamin K shot (or even the eye ointment) if you said so. And they won't give formula to breastfeed babies either.

And that's it. Two more sessions to go, and I think those will be about the newborns, not so much the mothers. I may or may not attend, we'll see.

We have another appointment tomorrow morning and it's going to be my big glucose thing. Ick, in advance. I am terrified of that drink, even though I've had it before, and it wasn't even flavoured. I didn't get sick back then, but for whatever reason, just the idea of it is freaking me out as I type. Ick, ick, ick. I sure do hope I pass, because if I don't, they'll have me come back and drink the poison again. I asked if I could just get the real OGGT test right away, since it doesn't give false positive results like the challenge, but nope... the rules and all.

The little guy's been kicking a lot, so I overall hope he's doing fine, too. We'll see in less than 12 hours.