We soldiered on to our Bradley Class again, mostly because we didn’t want to fall behind in our class and drop out of life completely. Which meant that we were under even deeper cover, since we thought it best to keep our baby-joy buzzkill of a week to ourselves. Which was, in the end, helpful for us, too. It was good to re-engage with the pregnancy and think about nutrition and birth and all of that. To remember that all hope and joy is not lost.
So we sat down and settled in for the ride. Ice-breaker/opening question to me? “What has been the hardest part of the pregnancy so far?” We exchanged high eyebrows across the room and I talked about ‘worry’. Which is honest, right?
Our Quackery List was short this week. We watched a crunchy video about home birthing, and talked a lot about nutrition. Which was awesome, because my wife totally kicked ass this week with her protein intake topping out at 120.6 grams one day. Take that, other expectant moms!! In-your-face!
In another interesting development, I could have sworn that our teacher was flagrantly flatulating. Obviously passing gas. Letting ‘em rip. But my wife thinks it was just the furniture or something. I’m not so sure. I wouldn’t put it past her.
Following a rushed relaxation exercise, we were nearly out the door with our cover intact when we almost blew it. One of our classmates was asking about finding a doula, and my wife helpfully offered the name and website of a friend of hers who acts as a monitrice for birthing mothers. Who just happens to be a co-worker of my wife, which might completely blow our cover, and which I shrilly pointed out to my wife when we got to the car. Now she’s gonna have to get in touch with her friend and create an alibi.
It’s not easy, being sneaky.