I had the dreaded June 5 "July babies meeting" from 7 to 9:30, in old-town Alexandria, 30 miles from my home, last night. Which was a GIGANTIC pain, though I suppose it was fairly useful. I think the main point was, "if you feel you're going into labor, AT ALL, CALL US!!! in bold and underlined three times. Okay. Will do. With some really bizarre slide show/film/discussions thrown in there.
A touching example, not for the squeamish: If you're bleeding too much immediately after, er, birthing? passing? your placenta, and your baby isn't into the suckling thing yet, your husband can do it! Because nipple stimulation is necessary to make the uterus contract the necessary amount to stanch the blood flow! Yes, okay, I just lost 18 of 19 of you. And, no, I would never ever do this, not with other people in the room. I will bleed to death first. So, you get my point with the earthy gore. And lots and lots of episiotomy discussions. Apparently, first-time laborers are scared out of their minds to have one. When you get there, trust me -- YOU WILL NOT CARE, if it gets that kid out of you.
I was amused to note that almost all the women had their husbands in tow. I suppose that makes sense. I think that Matt's suffered through enough Bradley classes, and one real-live birth!, to be given a break. Also, someone had to put Lizzy to bed ...
So, I got home at 11:35 last night. On a weeknight. Had to wait on two late-night metros, endure a bunch of drunken Nationals baseball fans, etc., etc. I hate it when I have no evening, and get to bed quite late to boot. I've been comatose today.
I did note, as I was strolling around before the meeting, that the birth center is, in fact, a block and a half west of the bar/grill where Matt and I first met (doing karaoke). Awwwww!
I do so love old-town Alexandria. It's so lovely, in that genuine, yet kinda touristy-fake, real old-timey Virginia sort of way. Adorable buildings; brick walkways; gas lanterns; pineapples poised over entryways; etc. It's probably the one place I've consistently taken visitors. Not to the White House; not to, um, whatever else we have here in D.C. that I used to know about; but to Old Town. It's that cool to me. Lots and lots of good memories.
Here's hoping that one more is about six weeks away!