As always, I have to better manage my expectations. I really thought Lamaze class would be something like the movies. The pregnant women would sit on the floor, their birthing partners behind them. There would be some breathing, maybe some massage. I was expecting something along the lines of a beginning Hatha yoga class - but what we have found is something quite different.
That said, the little room and the uncomfortable chairs are not the worst part of our Lamaze experience to date. It's that our Lamaze teacher hates us. Or at least she hates Chris and me by association. Why, I have no idea. She's crazy and disorganized and horribly condescending. We should have known from the first comment about people no longer loving surprises - this was right after she asked how many of us knew the sex of our babies - that it was going to be a rough night.
I think the real problem is that Chris and I are the bookworms invited to sit at the popular kids' lunch table. I was that way in high school as well and we both agree that we have become far "cooler" in our adult years. Nonetheless, the geek still dwells within. And when we embark on something, we like to know what we're getting into. We read everything. We research things to death. And we rarely make decisions without weighing multiple options. We've been this way about our pregnancy. We know, as much as we can, about what to expect.
So when the crazy lady, whose jean jacket had an unfortunate run-in with a bedazzler, asked questions, it's not a big surprise that we thought we had answers.
"What is the opposite of back?" The crazy lady asked as she was trying to explain posterior positioning in the birth canal
"Front." Chris said. (yeah a little like kindergarten right?)
Ignoring Chris, she asked the question again, "What is the opposite of back?"
"Front." Chris answered a little louder this time
And again, "What is the opposite of back?"
"No, belly. The answer is belly." She chuckled.
She hates us. She just does.
Back to class tomorrow night...oh dear.