I’m sorry to be so fixated on snacks all the time, but really. How is it that people who are ostensibly responsible enough to procreate and parent and educate themselves about the intricacies of natural childbirth have so much trouble with the danged snacks ? If last week’s hunk-o-cheese wasn’t bad enough, the knuckleheads for this week brought nothing. Nada. Not even a squishy grape, for crying out loud. I mean, how hard is it? You’re planning to give birth, and transport this precious life home and raise him or her up to be a responsible person who may or may not save the world– is it so hard to remember that people need to eat?
What’s that? Who was supposed to bring the snack this week?
Us? Oh. Heh.
In other news, we watched a cool video of women giving birth in Brazil. Where, apparently, the women squat, the babies slide through the labia like they’re falling out of a nylon sleeping bag, and a classical guitarist plays in each delivery room.
We also saw a video comparing two birth coaches: a good coach, and a bad coach. Who both happened to be expectant fathers, but of a very different kind. Dad #1 wore all black (even a black hat– I’m not kidding about this) and stood at a distance with arms crossed and scowl affixed. By the first hour of what was to become a 16 hour labor, he had lost interest in pacing back and forth, and found a comfortable chair across the room to sit in. All of which made him the target of many jeers from our crowd. Dad #2 was in the bed, with his baby mama, showering her with prayers and encouragement. I mean, God himself was a kind of afterthought in terms of miraculous suppport. The guy knew everything, and did everything.
When Mom #1 started to get exhausted (imagine!), she was told by her beloved that “you can’t stop! You have to do it, now!!”. “Get rid of it! Just push the thing out!! Come on, now!,” he shouted into her ear when he finally joined her at the bedside. Later, he left the delivery room in a huff because he was ‘frustrated and fed up’ that his wife had given up after 3 hours of pushing (she clearly wasn’t pushing with much effort near the end, but still). Dad #2 left the laboring mom once as well, but it was because he needed to cry for seeing his wife in all of that pain.
Which was the perfect precursor to our final exercise: simulated labor. We moved around the room to five different stations to simulate various positions for laboring (standing, squatting, sitting, etc.). Some of which were quite restive and sedate, and others which left me trembling and exhausted with the thirty-second effort. And guess which ones the wife preferred?