We sat in a room decorated with pictures of pregnant women and babies--H-band sat on the couch, and I had moved to a glider because my back was starting to hurt.
We watched our instructor, who has been a doula for two decades, swaddle a stuffed plastic baby to near perfection.
"Who'd like to go first?" she said. I much preferred the labor massage part of the course.
H-band crouched over the table and began to crease the blanket, starting over once to crispen his fold.
"He wraps all the presents in the house," I felt compelled to explain. "He'll do better at this." In less than a minute the baby was wrapped in inescapable warmth, the permanently molded "O" of her mouth seemed to say, "Good job!"
"OK," said the doula, "now it's Mom's turn." I wasn't sure to whom she was referring.
I spread the blanket out on a surface and folded over one corner,
"Babe don't forget to fold in her arms," H-band reminded.
"Tuck it in before you grab the next piece, under her side," reminded the doula.
"Next piece is the bottom," H-band added. "Don't wrap the next side around yet."
In the finished look the plastic baby floated in a doughnutty concoction. A mass of blanket surrounding, but not exactly swaddling, her.
"You'll get better at it," the doula said.
Next was a video featuring a Mexican midwife who was giving birth to her own child. She looked healthy and zaftig, taking a vigorous hike with her Japanese husband and parents on their lush farm.
"Look at their bathroom," I said. "Gorgeous tile...I would consider a home birth if I had that tile."
"Are you going to provide commentary throughout?" H-band said.
"Sorry. Just saying."
Being a midwife, the woman instinctively knew when it was time to push, and she did with no screaming, simply pulling her baby to the surface of the water. At this point, her naked, cherubic sons entered the bathroom and joined their parents in the tub. A happy, naked family, sitting in a tub--full of floaties.
H-band looked on with tears in his eyes. I was tearing up too, but for different reasons. I thought of parts of my body stretching beyond recognition. Of me, a beaten carcass with nipples.
"Next video," the doula said, "caring for a newborn." This video was much longer. It opened with an outline of topics that would be covered, including subtopics. Very thorough.
The couple hosting the video looked clean and well-kempt. I don't know if they are actual parents but I like to believe that they were. They seemed to have survived.
As we watched my commentary commenced. I began speaking to no one in particular.
During the diapering part: Are we set on cloth? No cloth? ... Three thousand changes in the first year!... whassat mean for me? At least one thousand...which end is the front?
During the feeding part: You hear that? No bottles until 4-6 weeks. We won't pump until, like, November...notice she's using pillows to prop the baby--why not use them with the Boppy? What's wrong with the Boppy? We can't use those newly upholstered ones...Look, the whole nipple. We have to make sure she latches properly...
During the bathing part: Look both of them are involved... we need two people for this, not just one. They're slippery. Very slippery...We'll have to coordinate ...
"Enough from the peanut gallery already," H-band said.
I have no idea what he's talking about. Clearly he is stressed about his new role. I keep my comments to myself. He just needs time.
We watched our instructor, who has been a doula for two decades, swaddle a stuffed plastic baby to near perfection.
"Who'd like to go first?" she said. I much preferred the labor massage part of the course.
H-band crouched over the table and began to crease the blanket, starting over once to crispen his fold.
"He wraps all the presents in the house," I felt compelled to explain. "He'll do better at this." In less than a minute the baby was wrapped in inescapable warmth, the permanently molded "O" of her mouth seemed to say, "Good job!"
"OK," said the doula, "now it's Mom's turn." I wasn't sure to whom she was referring.
I spread the blanket out on a surface and folded over one corner,
"Babe don't forget to fold in her arms," H-band reminded.
"Tuck it in before you grab the next piece, under her side," reminded the doula.
"Next piece is the bottom," H-band added. "Don't wrap the next side around yet."
In the finished look the plastic baby floated in a doughnutty concoction. A mass of blanket surrounding, but not exactly swaddling, her.
"You'll get better at it," the doula said.
Next was a video featuring a Mexican midwife who was giving birth to her own child. She looked healthy and zaftig, taking a vigorous hike with her Japanese husband and parents on their lush farm.
"I thought she was in labor," I said to the doula.
"She is," she said. "She's still in the early stages."
I hoped the midwife wouldn't trip on the rocks she was traipsing across. Jesus, I thought, someone stop her!
The Mexican midwife and her husband retreated to their bathroom to soak in the tub as she labored. They sat in relatively peaceful repose; she moaned softly."Look at their bathroom," I said. "Gorgeous tile...I would consider a home birth if I had that tile."
"Are you going to provide commentary throughout?" H-band said.
"Sorry. Just saying."
Being a midwife, the woman instinctively knew when it was time to push, and she did with no screaming, simply pulling her baby to the surface of the water. At this point, her naked, cherubic sons entered the bathroom and joined their parents in the tub. A happy, naked family, sitting in a tub--full of floaties.
H-band looked on with tears in his eyes. I was tearing up too, but for different reasons. I thought of parts of my body stretching beyond recognition. Of me, a beaten carcass with nipples.
"Next video," the doula said, "caring for a newborn." This video was much longer. It opened with an outline of topics that would be covered, including subtopics. Very thorough.
The couple hosting the video looked clean and well-kempt. I don't know if they are actual parents but I like to believe that they were. They seemed to have survived.
As we watched my commentary commenced. I began speaking to no one in particular.
During the diapering part: Are we set on cloth? No cloth? ... Three thousand changes in the first year!... whassat mean for me? At least one thousand...which end is the front?
During the feeding part: You hear that? No bottles until 4-6 weeks. We won't pump until, like, November...notice she's using pillows to prop the baby--why not use them with the Boppy? What's wrong with the Boppy? We can't use those newly upholstered ones...Look, the whole nipple. We have to make sure she latches properly...
During the bathing part: Look both of them are involved... we need two people for this, not just one. They're slippery. Very slippery...We'll have to coordinate ...
"Enough from the peanut gallery already," H-band said.
I have no idea what he's talking about. Clearly he is stressed about his new role. I keep my comments to myself. He just needs time.
