Lamaze Malaise

Due to another inexcusable weekend of slacking, I hadn't reminded the readership that we were heading to our first of five Lamaze classes yesterday. And so we did. As instructed, we hauled along four pillows and a sense of humor (that they did not require for participation but it turned out invaluable).

Seven couples were in attendance. All hetero, incidentally. The night got off to a groan, at least for me, as we were paired off with two other couples and had to run through a series of get-to-know-you questions. (I'm all for making acquaintances, but I'm not at all for this regimented junior high orientation-style drill). We then presented the class with the bios of our new friends, and the ice was broken.

Following this feel-good half-hour, our instructor solicited the seven ladies for a list of their pregnancy discomforts. These ranged from back pain (#1 on the chart) to mood swings to dribbles. This one she saved for last, and I'll save completely from any further discussion.

What came next really put the festivities in high gear. Out of her toy box the instructor pulled a 30 lb. mock-up boob and pregnant belly vest. Each guy was obligated to strap on this straightjacket and express appreciation for the suffering of our partners. Heavy though it was, I had no issue with it until I sat down, causing the full weight of the faux fetus to crash down on the crotch.

The evening ended with a video (doesn't anyone show filmstrips anymore?) of Bill Cosby's routine on childbirth's horror and humor. I suppose this class intends to replace the former with the latter. There are four more to go and we'll do our best.

P.S. No pillows were fluffed during the course of the evening. We're to try again next week.