Image source: From greenlikebathwater
On Tuesday night we attended our first antenatal class at John James. In the lead up to the class I was really excited. I had high expectations for what the class would bring and I was really looking forward to getting to know some other people that are going through something similar to us.
However, the night didn’t quite go as I thought it would. I’ve recently moved work locations and it now means that if I want to get a free park at our building I have to be at work by 7:30am, which means leaving our house at around 7am. Now I’m not a morning person at the best of times so combine the need to be up early with the lack of solid sleep and not a happy gnome does it make.
On Tuesday I had been at work from 7:30am and didn’t actually get out of there until 5:30pm which meant rushing home, not changing or relaxing, picking up HUBBY and heading back out to the antenatal class. Not a great start.
When we got there, on time, there was a small crowd gathered outside the door to the classroom. Turns out the person running the class was running late. This meant we got to stand around in the carpark for 10 minutes waiting for them to arrive. As we were waiting I was checking out the other people and two things struck me… 1. There were a heck of a lot more people waiting to go in then I thought would be in our class, and 2. the women were all really heavily pregnant.
I’ll be the first to admit that I have ‘bump envy’. I would love to be one of those women that has a great basketball looking bump, but alas my bump is more of a blob bump. Given my physical makeup and the fact that I was already carrying a spare tire around my middle before Junior decided to take up residence I just look like I’ve put back on the weight that I’d lost in the last 2 years.
In fact when I was at my GP 2 weeks ago and she asked how far along I was she responded with shock and said “Gee you’re carrying it well. Just goes to show how much weight you’d lost from your middle.” So I’m a little sensitive about the fact that I’m not obviously pregnant. (In fact, I’m getting more of those curious looks where you can tell people are wondering if you’re pregnant or fat so they air on the side of caution and don’t mention it at all and then when you do they go “Oh, I wondered!”)
So I’m standing outside in the cold, dark and with shoes on that over the course of the day have started to cut the circulation in my feet (thank you swelling) and I’m getting a little ticked off. This isn’t going the way I thought it would and all these beautifully pregnant women standing around rubbing their perfectly formed bumps and talking about their natural birth plans is really starting to make me wish I was at home on the couch.
When the trainer did turn up she was like the pied piper of pregnant women – she had another 20 people with her.
She let us into the room and we all took up seats. However, there weren’t enough so people we’re pulling them from the pile that was in the corner of the room. So much for the intimate group of 10 to 12 people I thought we’d be having. The instructor didn’t even go around the room and get us to introduce ourselves, so it was even more overwhelming to have all these strangers sitting around talking about birth canals and perineum’s.
Over the course of the next 15 minutes even more people arrived which meant that there was another mad scramble for chairs and the class kept having to be stopped while people went on a hunt for chairs.
The instructor took this opportunity to inform the class that this wasn’t how the first class was normally run and that the midwife that ran the course had had a family emergency and therefore the physio (who normally does an hour presentation at the end of the course) was now doing the first nights session. The physio, who was lovely and engaging and funny, advised that she wouldn’t be covering the normal content, she’d just be expanding on what she would normally talk about. She also advised that due to the family emergency there would be no class next week and that they’d condense the missed weeks topics into the week afters. So we’d be doing 2 weeks in 1 night.
I wasn’t impressed. Don’t get me wrong, I know stuff happens and I should just roll with the punches but at that point in time I was so cranky I didn’t really care. I just wanted to be at home. It did strike me that I may have been having a mild panic attack as it was really hitting home for the first time that I was going to have to GIVE BIRTH!
I know, I think I’m mental as well. I mean, really, what did I think was going to happen? That Junior was just going to miraculously appear on the outside without me having to do anything. While I had thought about labor, I don’t think I’d actually made the connection that labor was something I was going to have to do. I was clearly in a boat heading up De Nile!
So there I am silently fuming, but trying to be a good little student by smiling when the instructor looked at me, paying attention to what was going on (not that I could see the screen for the 30 heads in front of me) and trying not to freak out.
We got on to the point where the instructor wanted to cover pain reducing positions that we could move into when stage 1 labor starts. This was the part where we got to stand up, grab some pillows and practice with our “support crew”. (Seriously, support crew! Every time she said it I had visions of the nurses, midwives and obstetrician being dressed in racing suits and getting me up on jacks to change my tires in under 30 seconds!) Now, the key statement there is “grab some pillows”, turns out we were all supposed to be advised by the hospital to bring with us two pillows. Funny, but no one (out of the 50 people in there) had heard a peep about bringing pillows. We all had to rely on the pillows that the hospital had available, which turned out were less then the number of couples attending the session. This meant that some had to miss out and wait for others to finish before they could have a crack.
I’m not a relaxed person at the best of times. I find having to do “exercises” in training groups naff. I hate them. I’d rather sit, take it all in and then practice in the comfort of my own home. Not to mention I find it really hard to get into intimate positions with HUBBY in a room full of 48 strangers. Add to this the fact that I loathe being touched when I’m in a foul mood and you just had a winning combination.
I felt so bad for HUBBY. Every time I looked over at him he looked so excited and keen to try everything out and all I wanted to do was leave the scene as fast as I could. Needless to say we didn’t do much in the way of practicing our positions or the support crew’s massage technique.
No one was talking with each other like I’d imagined. Even when we were given a quick 5 minutes to grab a coffee and biscuit (had to keep moving because she wanted us out of there 30 minutes early) no one really mingled. It was just crap.
I did learn some neat things about how the body responds to the growing baby and the process of labor. I also took away some techniques for how to deal with the uncomfortableness of pregnancy and labor. I did learn (shocked to learn even) that women are only given 2 hours to complete stage 2 of labor. Both HUBBY and I spent a bit of time talking about that on the way home.
I really appreciated the instructors take on everything and felt for her being in a room of so many faces, last minute covering stuff that wasn’t her area. I was just disappointed at the hospital’s organisation.
Am I looking forward to the next class? Not really. I feel like it’ll be rushed to make up for the fact that we won’t have a class next week and I just can’t get past the size of the class. Am I going to make every effort possible to go in there in a better mood – hell yes! I’m going to finish work at a reasonable hour, I’m going to come home have a shower and try to relax, I’m going to eat before class and I’m going to make it a point to talk to at least 2 different pregnant women while at the class.
Image source: zulily
This week I also learned that everyone has an opinion on every aspect of your pregnancy, birth and child rearing and I’m not coping well with that. Never before have I experienced so much judgement and unsolicited advice from strangers as I have in the past few months and I’ve had jack of it. We get judgement because we’re going private, we get judgement because we’re using an obstetrician, we get judgement because I don’t want to breastfeed uncovered in public, we get judgement because I’m not some earth mother type, we get judgement because I am fully expecting to use drugs to get through the labor stage – it’s just judge, judge, judge.
I’m mean really, who gives a f**k. It’s my body, my birth experience, our child we’re not asking you to take any of it on and we’re not passing judgement on your choices because ours may differ from you. This is between me, HUBBY and Junior so put a cork in it. If I want to pay extra so that I can have a room on my own for the biggest event of my life, then that’s my choice. I’m not asking you to fork over the cash to pay for it. I’m not making a comment on the public health system (which, by the way, I think is brilliant and I support it every chance I get – I just want to have some personal time with my family and our new child that I don’t want to have to share with some stranger who’s trying to do the same with their family). I’m not passing judgement on your birth experience because you decided to go public. I’m making a decision for my family, based on our situation and our expectations. It’s all about me – not you – me!
I’m the first to admit that I’m a bit of a prude when it comes to my body. I think bathing suits peaked in the Victorian era and people should cover up. That’s me. I know this about myself. The thing that I struggled with the most in the IVF process was the constant need to have people looking at my bits. (Sure, they’re professionals they see it all the time, it’s not a sexual thing to them – but to me, it’s my junk and I don’t want to show it to anyone I’m not legally wed to.) So the thought of having a team of people looking at my business while I’m trying to push a watermelon out of it doesn’t fill me with joy. However, I know that it’s a necessary evil and at the time I won’t really be giving a toss. However, I also know that there’s going to be some post labor upkeep and monitoring and for that I’d like to be in my own room where I don’t have to have a curtain drawn while the nurses and doctors talk about it with a stranger laying in the bed beside me. We’re lucky enough to be able to afford to do it and so I’d like to have a private room. As much as I don’t want them hearing about my bowel movements and perineum maintenance I don’t want to hear theirs either.
It’s my choice. It’s not a comment on the dedication and skills of the public health system.
If I want to take advantage of the medical developments and use drugs to assist my labor process, that’s between me, HUBBY and our medical team. Not you. I’m not any less of a woman because I wanted assistance. I’m not making a comment on the birth experience you had because you didn’t use drugs. I’m making a decision for my body and my situation. If we’re all so pro-women’s choice why is it that when she exercises those choices everyone gets on their high horse?
The human body may be a wonderful thing, but it’s my body and I will use and abuse it as I see fit. I’ve lived with it long enough to know it’s limits, both physically and mentally, and as far as I’m concerned the goal of this whole exercise is to get Junior on the outside healthy and in one piece. How me, HUBBY and the medical team decide to do that is our choice. Our choice is not a comment on your choice. It’s our choice, for our situation.
Don’t get me wrong, I love and adore hearing about other people’s experiences. I love it when people share because they’re wanting to have a positive interaction, not when they’re trying to convert you to their way of thinking. Some of my favourite parts of this whole experience have been hearing other people’s take on pregnancy, birthing and parenting. They’ve been good times because the information has been shared without judgement, without being zealots and without making me feel like I’m already a bad parent because I made the choice I did. If you want to talk to me about your choices and my choices like adults without judgement and without preaching at me then I’m your girl. If you’re on a personal mission to convert me to your way of thinking then you and I are not going to be spending a hell of a lot of time together.
Image source: flickr
Lucky for me our Obstetrician is a great guy. We had our 30 week appointment (a week early) this week and we talked to him about our experience to date and clarified some more information about our birth choices. He was great and I’m so glad that we ended up with him. He took all the measurements and even gave us a quick scan of Junior. It’s always amazing to see Junior. It’s just horrible when he asks if we want to know Junior’s sex.
For some reason when we’re not at a scan I’m happy to not know. When we’re at the scan and that image is on the screen and I know that the information is just there… I want to know SO bad. I did some begging of HUBBY to know and just as it looked like HUBBY was waivering the obstetrician said “Why don’t you talk about it and we’ll have another look at the next appointment.” Nooooo!!! So close! Ultimately I was really glad we didn’t find out. But still, I don’t know how much more of this temptation I can take!
He measured Junior and we’re right on track. A little bigger then the median but it’s nothing to be worried about.
We talked about the Glucose Tolerance Test that I was supposed to take on Monday. The test requires 3 days of carbohydrate loading to be done before the test and because of my limited stomach capacity I wasn’t able to consume a third of the food I needed too. I postponed the test because I wanted to talk to the obstetrician about the validity of the test if I couldn’t complete it. He advised to just get the test done and then we’d see what the results said.
So yesterday I went to pathology to take the test. When I did the first test I felt a little unwell after consuming the glucose drink so this time I asked the nurse if I’d be able to lay down for the hour between the first blood test and the next one. She was really great and let me have an exam room to myself to lay down and try and get through the test.
With 5 minutes to go however my body took matters into it’s own hands and I power vomited the glucose liquid across the pathology bathroom. It was like something from the exorcist. Because I’d been fasting it was just yellow bile and glucose. I was so close!
The nurse took the blood work but the rest of the test had to be called off. She told me that because we’d been able to get the fasting level they should be able to pull something together, but there may be a chance I need to do it again. Seriously, I couldn’t believe it. I haven’t spewed like that in years. It was epic.
I’m not sure what the results will be. When I talked to my GP about it she said given how high the number as on the first test (9.8) there’s a good chance that I’ll have it. Given that there was concern at the beginning of this pregnancy that my stomach condition would be starving the baby, now to think that Junior may be on the big side because of Gestational Diabetes I kind of think that the kid is going to be a goldilocks baby (not too fat, not too thin, just right!).
The obstetrician is really happy with how things are progressing and he’s requested another appointment in 4 weeks time.
It’s weird to think but in 4 weeks time I’ll be doing my final week at work before going on maternity leave. I’m so excited about finishing up and just spending some quality alone time at home before Junior arrives. I feel like it’ll be the last chance I get to have some guilt free rest in before our world changes forever. It’s so exciting and so huge. I’m getting impatient to have Junior on the outside, but on the other hand I’m enjoying knowing that it’s coming and that this time before is really special and precious. It’s a weird mix of emotions.
