It was our long-awaited week to be ‘snack people’, a job which is harder than it sounds. These are highly educated and consummeristic pregnant women and their uber-attentive husbands, so food is no small matter, and it demands one’s utmost attention. Alcohol is frowned upon, fresh fruits and/or vegetables are important, purity is prized, and high protein content is an absolute necessity. When your stomach is squished, you can’t waste a single bite.
After much consideration, we sacrificed the bonus points which are awarded for homemade foodstuffs in favor of convenience. We went with the somewhat predictable pita-and-hommus route, though we were careful to get the organic stuff. Along with baba gannouj and tabouleh and that yummy yogurt stuff. Plus a quick fruit salad and bottled water made a nice snack. It is stinky stuff when you lay out the spread, but people gobble it up when they get the chance, and they seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.
In other news, Mr. Perineum sat on one of those giant birth-balls during the whole three hour class, and I totally answered my question about informed consent. The wife scared me sweaty with her brilliantly organized and detailed explanation of fetal monitoring, but she assured me later that she was only discussing items which we had talked about in class. Oh, and I killed another question about belly-breathing vs. chest-breathing (knowledge leftover from my days as a runner). And we found out about the (perfectly named) ‘mothering hormone’ that is magically released when baby meets breast.
But we really got down to business right after snack time with our viewing of the highly anticipated C-Section Video. Which happened to be filmed at the great Holy Cross Hospital with a resident who’s an associate of the wife. I sat transfixed, following close with my eyes as every layer of flesh was cut and cauterized. Readying myself for this potential outcome of our pregnancy, and steeling myself for the experience. I usually get a bit oogey with blood and stuff, but I hung in there pretty well, in spite of the wife’s frequent interruptions of ‘are you ok?’ Apparently, she attributed my steely gaze and altered hue to faintness rather than intensity.