What We Learned at Birthing Class

Have you ever seen a really, really graphic childbirth as you're wiping sleep from your eyes at 9:15 on a Sunday morning? We're talking full frontal, close-up, can't-eat-for-four-hours graphic. No?

We have. Welcome to birthing class. And welcome, yet again, to parenthood.

We spent the Sunday of our Memorial Day Weekend learning about how to have a baby. Instead of doing weekly classes for a month, we opted to jam it all into one eight-hour marathon session -- a decision I highly recommend. Aside from being the only of the seven couples to bring our own pillows (thanks, Internet, for making us look stupid), we actually had a great time. Yes, it may be partially because we're both kind of nerds and we love to learn new things, but mostly it was because it was super helpful.

What specifically did we learn? Here are a some things that stood out:

Well, as mentioned above, we learned that childbirth is really, really graphic. Now, we knew this, of course, but I suppose I just wasn't sure how graphic we were talking. I will now happily take the advice of a couple friends who are already dads to, "Stay at the top of the bed. Whatever you do, stay at the top of bed." Done and done.

Of the seven couples, we learned that only four knew the gender. For some reason, I expected that to be much higher. Maybe six couples. Maybe even all of them. But perhaps it's not quite as obvious of a decision.

I learned it's pretty cool to be called "one of the dads."

We learned that a sense of community is incredibly important. We read a lot. We talk to friends who already have kids. We talk to our mothers. But we don't know many people who are going through the same exact thing we are going through at the same exact time. It made us feel so much better to hear other people ask questions about epidurals, breathing, and poop.

Even before we get to the big event, we learned that we need to start doing yoga and meditating. We're using a midwife and we're going to try to keep things natural, so staying calm and relaxed are of utmost importance. Speaking of relaxation, we learned that Lamaze is crap. It's a method of breathing that doesn't encourage release or downward motion, which are both fairly important when you're trying to squeeze eight pounds out of, well, you know what.

We learned that most babies are born at 41 weeks and that most due dates are a week early. (Bridget may have known this, but a lot of this stuff was completely new to me.)

We learned that the water breaks early in only about 10-11% of births. (Bonus: Also, it's waters break (with an "s"), which was new to me.) I thought this was like 98%. Seriously, every movie I've seen for the last 20 years that involves childbirth involves some new dad slipping on his wife's water. Stupid Hollywood and its dramatic lies.

We learned that labor usually starts at home -- and lasts for quite a while. Maybe it's just me, but I had this image of rushing home from work, grabbing the packed bag, and driving on two wheels down side streets to get to the hospital. Not so much. It's apparently far, far less dramatic and involves hours of pre-labor and early labor. (Oscar, I imagine, will be quite helpful during this time. <-- Sarcastic.)

We learned a whole lot more, too -- including how to breathe, how to properly massage a woman in labor, and the importance of being a positive Dad. I really can't imagine a more productive use of eight hours (especially on a lousy day) as you're preparing to have a bundle of joy.

And I suppose I should get used to the graphic images. I learned they are part of parenthood.

Six Things That Scare Me about Fatherhood

With about three months to go before our little girl's due date, I find myself increasingly petrified about this thing called fatherhood. Some of these fears, as you'll see if you read on, are completely irrational. Others are rational, or at least I think they are.

Now, deep down, I hope and think everything will be fine. But you know when you're not sure about something and your mind starts wandering? Like when you're waiting for a call about a job that never comes so you tell yourself it's because you had lettuce in your teeth. Or when your spouse doesn't call you back for an hour so you assume something amazingly horrible (like a fiery giraffe stampede) has happened. That's what my mind has been doing.

So, I figured, why not share?

Number 6: The baby won't like me. This one seems completely rational to me. I mean, some people just don't like other people. You don't like someone. Someone doesn't like you. It happens. So what if our precious little angel looks at me and says, "Eh, I'm good. You're kind of lame, Pops"?

Number 5: I'll become horrible at my job and my life because I'll never sleep again. Right now, we go to bed before 11 (yes, usually even on weekends) and I get between 7-8 hours of sleep. This solid sack time allows me to think clearly at work, find the energy to work out, and, on most days, enjoy the heck out of life. But what happens when those 7-8 hours turn into 4? Or 2? Or, good God, 0? I am certain those nights will happen and I'm worried about the results.

Number 4: I'll suck at changing diapers. Sure, I'll learn. We're taking the classes and all that. And 14-year-old babysitters have done this since the beginning of time, so how hard can it be? But, truthfully, I'm not very good at stuff like this. I'm terrible at folding clothes. I'm mediocre at ironing. I'm lousy at laundry. On the whole, arts and crafts have always been a struggle for me. What if my child gets a diaper rash because I screw up a change? (How does one even get a diaper rash? Oh, man.) Moving on ...

Number 3: My little girl will get my eyebrows. As you can see from that image up there (and if you've ever met me), I have some fairly serious eyebrows. I do some grooming here and there so they are suitable for the light of day, but they don't belong on a girl. Bridget and I often talk about what features each of us will hand down. Eyebrows, athletic ability, and ankles are usually the three hot topics.

Number 2: Oscar will eat the baby. We went to a concert the other night and came home to find Oscar had crawled into Bridget's bag (which was on a table), removed two apples and a bag of cough drops, and devoured said apples and drops. What if the baby gets something delicious like peanut butter on her hands? Will Oscar start licking and just keep going? Will he start nibbling the fingers and find himself at an elbow? He better not.

Number 1: Daycare costs will rise. I've already written about the horror of daycare prices today. But can you imagine if they go up? Like, a lot? Great, now I'm sweating profusely. Having ... trouble .... breathing.

It's cool if I crack a beer before 8 AM on a Sunday, right?   

Are We Lame?

I sat outside with some friends on the Legal Seafood Patio after work on Friday. They made plans for the rest of their evenings -- some were heading to a bar to watch the Bruins game, others were off to celebrate a birthday at a Mexican restaurant -- and I sat there, wistfully. "Oh, cool, thanks for the invite," I joked.

The response from my friend, Caitlin: "Well, you're just going to go home and read with your wife anyway!"

Ouch. But she was right. (Well, she would have been right on most nights. Last night, we actually did go out for a bit.) The meaning of "read," of course, changes from time to time. We watch a few shows on Hulu, sit through an occasional movie, write blog posts, browse the Web, peruse magazines, and take online courses. And we talk a lot. But on most weekday nights (yes, including Friday), that's pretty much the routine.

My question: Are we lame?

We usually go to bed between 10-11 and don't exactly go nuts on the weekend. I remember talking to another friend of mine (this one, a younger female colleague) about the night they captured those assclowns with the bombs.

"Even we went out last night," I said to her the next day. "You would have been proud. We didn't even go out until, like, 9:30."

"What time did you get home?" she asked.

"A little before 12."

"That," she said, "is when I went out."

My question, again: Are we lame?

We still go to concerts, still hang out with friends and family, and still go out for dinners. But we don't really care for bars. The idea of going to a local alehouse in Boston until 2 AM (like the good, old days!) is about as appetizing as eating seafood from Taco Bell. Crowds? No, thanks. Loud music? We'd rather not. Dancing? Ha.

To be honest, I'm not sure I even remember what a hangover feels like.

My question, one more time: Are we lame?

Now, of course, this has a fair amount to do with our little bundle of joy. She's due in 14 weeks, but she's already changed our lives in enormous ways. There is a lot of "can't" and "don't" in Bridget's life now, including booze and her beloved soft cheeses. Last year's vacations included Ireland, California, Colorado, France, and Mexico. This year? A full month of unimaginable sleep deprivation here in lovely Cambridge. (Tickets, I believe, are still available if you want to join us.)

So yeah, reading through all of this before I hit publish, we do seem pretty lame. But doesn't everyone eventually get lame? And doesn't lame, eventually, just turn into happiness?

I hope so because I really do like reading with my wife.

Here, Daycare, Take My Wallet

How much? I'm sorry. How much? And that's every month? That's not an annual fee? Are you sure? Can you double-check? 

Bridget and I made our first visit to a daycare center today. My breathing is finally getting back to normal now. I expect the color to return to my face early tomorrow afternoon. At least I hope that happens.

For now, I'm left with one burning question: How the hell do people pay for daycare?

It's insane. I mean, daycare centers call it tuition. Tuition! It's daycare! There aren't any co co-eds or keg parties or dorms. Tuition!

There's a range, of course. There are top-tier places, decent places, and places you wouldn't want to leave your child. We've explored them all online. But today was our first trip to an actual, brick-and-mortar business that we might entrust with the most important thing we ever create. (That is, if we ever get off the "wait list," but that's another story.) And this place was nice. Not like chandeliers and golden pacifiers nice, but good, quality people taking care of your child. The price tag: $2,100 per month. Punching that into a calculator (which, fortunately for me, is free to use online), that comes out to $25,200 per year.

Do you know what else you can do with that kind of money? Are you curious? Well, I was. So I came up with these five things:
1. Just over 56 nights at the Ritz Carlton in Boston.
2. A new Honda Civic and 2,000 gallons of gas.
3. Just under seven years of tuition at Cal State, Northridge. (That's an actual college.)
4. Just over 630 boxes of these diapers from Diapers.com. (And there are 258 diapers in each box! Also, can someone buy us a box? Please?)
5. Twenty-five roundtrip flights to Hawaii. (Ha, vacation. Yeah, right.)

Bridget and I are fairly conservative when it comes to money. As she's written about, we're in the process of getting rid of all our debt before the baby comes in August. No more college loans, no more car payments, no more big credit card bills. Nothing.

And that's all well and good, but it doesn't seem to matter. We're going to be eating Ramen noodles and store brand peanut butter on stale bread for the rest of our lives.

I have two final questions before I start rolling pennies for the rest of the night:
1. Any advice?
2. Do people really have more than one kid? Is that possible?