That was a lot of things. For ten hours over Saturday/Sunday (with Saturday's recap published prior to this one), we sat in remarkably uncomfortable chairs at Baptist Hospital in Nashville and learned about baby things. Yesterday (Sunday), we went back and were immediately treated to a video showing a Caesarian Section (not named after Julius Caesar, as Wikipedia confirmed for me in the middle of the video).
As we ate dinner following the completion of the class, where I sincerely hope that we will be given priority delivery as a reward, we were discussing the pros/cons of taking said class. The Con list was small, and also petty:
*It was on a holiday weekend (which actually made it a little nicer, since we both at least have today off).
*It was long.
*The chairs weren't comfortable - and I'm not the one with a cantaloupe in my breadbasket.
But the Pros list was impressive:
*The class was very helpful.
*We learned valuable information, such as: where to park, where to take Kami after we park, what the room where she will deliver looks like, what the room where she'll be recovering looks like.
*You can bring music and/or DVDs with you for delivery. Not kidding: Kami wants to hear this song, this song, and this song while she is in labor. They all make Kami happy, the last one mainly because I karaoke'd it on a cruise ship in front of her entire family. That's a story for another time. And we'll have a separate post on the Mix du Hospital
*You can fly coach, meaning, the basic room, which includes a bed (for her), TV/DVD combo, bathroom, a couch for dad - I tried it out, it's not too bad - but give me 4-5 minutes and I can be asleep on a hardwood floor - and room service for her. For $100/night, you can upgrade to Business Class, where you get all of the above, but with a sofa-bed for dad, extra seating, and room service for both of us. In Coach, I have to scrounge up my own food. There was also an autographed Matt Hasselbeck jersey on the wall, if that means anything to anybody. You have to pay that at discharge - it can't just be tacked on to the bill. We signed up for one, because we had to do it yesterday, with the understanding that we can decline it when we get to the hospital because, you know, that's what will be on my mind: whether or not I can order room service. Kami and I have to discuss how comfortable she is with me leaving for 20 minutes to go get something to eat after she has our first-born child. Maybe I can bring a coffee pot. The milk will already be in the room.
*Baptist Hospital actually takes an impressive number of precautions against Baby Stealin'. When we come in for delivery, we are given bracelets. And when the baby comes, she is given a matching bracelet that they check before we leave. She'll also get a little tag on her foot with a GPS tracker. This is a much more effective system than my plan of marking the bottom of her foot with a Sharpie, just so I knew which one was ours. I don't know if that's reassuring that they take those steps, or if it's disconcerting that they had to take those steps in the first place. Bottom line: Ain't nobody stealin' my baby.
*Now I have a better understanding of what Kami will go through when it's Labor Day. I knew - theoretically - how a baby leaves the womb, but I wasn't sure how a watermelon actually came out of a lemon. Now I know. Sometimes, too much knowledge can be a bad thing, but in this case I'm assuming it's better not to be a bumbling idiot. The more you know...
*Ultimately, it was worth the ten hours/$125 because we just feel better for going. We know, purely from a physical surroundings point of view, what to expect. It's worth $125 just to know where to go when we do have to head to the hospital. I feel like a better parent, even if I'm more overwhelmed now than I was on Friday night.
One aside: perhaps you remember the March 22 post on me being emasculated by Kami, though - alledgedly - not on purpose. Well, it happened again yesterday. Dads were given a baby doll, which I doted on (naturally). And I was holding said doll, sort of being a little too stiff with it, and Kami whispered to me, "Use the football hold." I stared back at her blankly. And held her torso as though I was throwing a football. Kami says, and because of the shock, a little more loudly than I would have preferred, "Don't you know how to hold a football?!"* The guy behind me laughed, so I had to cut his throat. She took the baby, and held it like the Heisman Trophy pose. I said, "Well of course I know how to hold a football like that. 'Football hold' is too vague.'" But the damage had been done, and I now have to drive around Nashville to settle some scores.
All in all, it was a good weekend. Today I clean out the back of the car to put the stroller and car seat in, and we go to Lowe's to get some paint for her nursery. Five weeks to go, give or take.
(* - Kami disagrees with the telling of this story. Of course, if she told our Baby Story, many of the themes and details would be quite different. But this is my version, and you can't say you weren't warned.)
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