Last Friday night I had a dream where I saw my son.1 In terms of dreams, it was pretty uneventful, no flying Cheetos or being chased by fire-breathing marbles. We were visiting my parent’s house and my mom was holding him. That’s pretty much it, nothing more. But the feeling I had when I woke up was one of peace and happiness. One of the only other times I had the same feeling was when I knew I wanted to marry Claudia.
The feeling continued through the morning when we went to our first parenting class. We arrived early to the 9:30 AM class 2, anxious to learn about the birthing process. Other excited/anxious-looking couples arrived to the class, probably in the same headspace as us.
At about 9:40 the instructor hadn’t arrived yet, so one of the students went to see what the hold up was. It turned out the person giving the class no longer worked at the hospital. Great. The staff there was trying to find a solution for us. My cynicism kicked in and I told Claudia “How good can it be if it’s last minute?”
Luckily, I was wrong.
What ended up happening was a nurse gave the class and she was incredible. She told us the original instructor, while she knew her stuff, wasn’t a nurse or a doctor. Nurse Liz was able to talk from her everyday experience and answered any question the class would throw at her.
One guy kept asking about the need for using drugs. Realizing he was asking a lot of drug-related questions, he says, “We’re trying to have a natural childbirth.”
“Within reason,” interrupted the wife.
Good luck with that, bro.
We left the class with loads of information and I had a renewed sense of intrigue.
Nine weeks left.