Last week a new temporary pattern started in my life that I never thought I'd have to endure, and what an eye-opener it was.Sat at the kitchen table, working away, I was minding my own business when I received a text from my mum in a panic state that my almost-about-to-burst sister had no one to go to her first antenatal class with her and I knew exactly what was coming..
"You'll go with her to the antenatal class, won't you?"
Were ten words I didn't expect to hear on my average Tuesday lunchtime, nor actually at any point in my life...
Don't get me wrong, I'm more than excited at the impending day I become an Aunty for the first time. I've been waiting pretty much the last several years for my only sister to finally make me an Aunty, and it's never blooming happened. In fact it's a miracle she finally decided to turn maternal now.
I've helped organise the baby shower, I've purchased over-priced bibs because they're from Etsy which makes them cuter than anything from your average supermarket, and I've agreed to babysit from time to time. Surely that constitutes as Aunty duties almost practically complete now until its 16? Which by that point the only duties I will be doing is more than likely picking up a ridiculously drunk teenager from a party and promising not to tell my sister. Right?
Wrong. I was going to the antenatal class and apparently in return I was getting a Nando's when the baby was born. Yay Chicken.We had quite a fun time deciding on how best to introduce ourselves. It was a toss up between the lovers that had paid for a sperm donor, or the mum and daughter - and explain she just had me really early on in life.
In the end, we walked in and as heads turned, Terri-ann quickly announced she'd bought her sister along because her husband had refused to come as these sessions were (and I quote) "pointless" and "You'd soon learn to breathe throughout labour so whats the need for practice?". Ohhh you could hear the tuts ripple throughout the room. Especially from the couple that were so loved up I thought they were about to try and make baby number 2 right there and then.
Anyway. Mistake. At least we had soon quashed their thoughts of us being lovers.
The midwife then went into an explanation about how Danny wouldn't just be helping Terri-ann breathe throughout the contractions, but he'd be learning how best to give his wife what she needs through this life changing time. Barf.
Then there was us! The sisters that had absolutely no freaking idea what to do when a baby was thrown in the room, let alone even look after one. That's why we are here though, right? Because according to this midwife, these three sessions would prepare us for the birth, give us an insight into birth and then give us all the tools and knowledge we needed to actually look after a baby.
Bring it on.
The next task included us being split up into groups to discuss questions we had for the midwife about anything that may be bothering us. I say "us", it wasn't bothering me, but Terri-ann was more than freaking out about having to push something the size of a rugby ball out...
We got paired with the ridiculously organised 'I-know-when-I-want-my-babys-birthday-to-be' couple who quickly told us they were that organised they had in fact already got three baby baths, but were only expecting one baby. Terri-ann looked at me and if by magic, Mr Super Organised could clearly tell Terri-ann had forgotten babies need baths and offered her one.. Boom!
Mr and Mrs Super Organised wanted to ask the first question and I was waiting for something that might educate me on how the freaking hell women cope during labour. But no. They wanted to know where they could park when it was time.... okay....
Next question. This is it I thought, a labour question. How wrong could I be?
Mr and Mrs Super Organised wanted to know if Mr Super Organised got free hospital food whilst his wife was in labour. Anyway I don't need to explain the rest of their questions. Blimey, they'd clearly been losing sleep over whether he would get a hotel room in the hospital or not.
It was left to Terri-ann to be the elephant in the room and ask about whether she could have a C-section, and would she get any pain relief, or could she just have some help during labour in the form of ANY pain relief going? She promised to take as much of it as possible. Mr and Mrs Super Organised were mortified; they want a natural birth.Being the nominated writer out the group, I had to read out the questions and therefore I decided to read the ones I felt we all really needed to know, the ones that were most helpful and could ensure things were simple at all times during the labour. The pain relief questions. Men got these women in this situation, who cares if they don't get fed for 48 hours whilst their wives are screaming blue murder. Go to the vending machine!
Anyway, next up it was time for some detailed explanation and the dreaded box.
I knew what was coming and Terri-ann and I read each others minds by crossing our legs firmly shut. That's right, the midwife pulled out a pelvis and a doll... oh hell no...
Mr and Mrs Super Organised sat forward on their seats, Mrs No Partner looked around the room, Marshall and Lily lookalikes grabbed one another hands and Mr and Mrs One Night Stand just continued to look sheepish.
I don't know if I pulled a face, or winced but the midwife turned to me and said "Sian?" Oh hell no I thought. Do not use me as a Guinea-Pig.
"Do you have any children?"
Terri-ann and I burst out laughing, and I screeched no, only just stopping myself from saying who the hell would willingly go through labour...
"I thought not" she said.
Humph, what did she mean by that? I was going to ace being an Aunty. I could barely remember to look after myself at the best of times, but I could be responsible for a small child. Silly woman.
For the next ten minutes Terri-ann and I sat in complete disgust at the explanation of how exactly a baby prepares to come down the 'birth canal' and what your body does throughout this process. Until...
"Is this going to hurt?" asked Terri-ann...
A few sniggers later and a mumble from me that whoever I married had better prepare himself to pay for me to have a C-section, all attention turned to Mr Marshall and Lily lookalike.
"I have a question" he muttered
"Once the baby is born, can we keep the placenta so we can make it into tablets my wife can then take after the birth?"
WHAT THE......
Maybe exclaiming "why the hell would you do that?" wasn't really politically correct of Terri-ann and I, but still... WHAT? WHY? JUST NO.Even the midwife looked taken a back now. Ha, someone managed to stump her. Go Marshal!
Turns out Mr Marshall and Lily's friend makes these tablets and is giving it them as a gift once the baby is born. What happened to nice baby outfits, cute shoes, bibs, nappies...or even other essentials? Why does their friend feel the need to turn their placenta into tablets to say 'congratulations, good luck with the sleepless nights and endless brown nappies'?
Really stunned now, I sat back in my chair and just accepted there was people out there that enjoyed this thing. If only the fairy-tales I heard as a kid that birds deliver babies when you want one were true.
And as if by magic, the session was over.
"Next week we'll be going through all the different types of births, from natural, to water births, to C-sections! Following that we'll be going through looking after your baby and tools such as swaddling..."
Rubbing salt in the wounds Terri-ann completely forgot you have to pay for hospital car parks and so it was left for me to find £5 change in my car and get us out of there as quick as possible. Maybe I should ask where I can park for these sessions next week?
Oh hell, Terri-ann if you're reading this, you owe me more than one Nando's for this, but hey, bring on swaddling....!
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