A graduation of sorts

So last night we had the final "Lamaze" class. I put it in quotes, because at the end of it, I'm not sure why it was categorized as a "Lamaze" class. Really, it was a third-trimester class. We discussed Lamaze only on the first week, and only for part of the time. That was a disappointment for me because we were hoping to get more information on natural birthing options. As it was, all I could tell was that our instructor favored natural birthing, but didn't really care what we decided to do.

Here's the roundup.

Week 1: Overview of pregnancy; Nutrition throughout pregnancy; Trimesters; some breathing, massaging, and relaxation exercises.

Week 2: Stages of labor; "the video"

Week 3: Epidurals; spinal blocks; tour of the hospital maternity ward

Week 4: Newborn care; Postpartum care; 10-minute refresher on recommended breathing patterns during contractions.

It was an interesting class, but it wasn't a "Lamaze" class. That's too bad, since we paid almost double the price of the third-trimester class with little to no information about Lamaze. I expected some Lamaze-specific material, tips on breathing with follow-up on subsequent weeks, homework on breathing, stuff like that. For a third-trimester class, it was really good. For a Lamaze-specific class, it was, um, lacking.

Other than that, I'm glad we took the class. I learned a lot of information, and I feel a lot more confident about the concept of birth than I did four weeks ago. I think that I might be able to get through it without passing out, which would be a bonus. I think I'm even going to try to cut the cord myself. This is a major step up. So this class has, after all, been a good thing.

So I think we're ready; at least in terms of knowing more about what to expect. I feel ready, I guess; as ready as we're going to be, since you're probably never _ready_. BW (Beautiful Wife) still needs to finish her thesis, but that will happen this week. Which is coincidentally the week BW hits the 37 week mark, which is considered "full-term." We had a lady at our church on Sunday tell us that you can just tell when somebody is ready for labor, and BW apparently has that look. She thought that BW might have her baby even this week. You could just see it in BW's face, apparently.

I hope not. We still haven't picked a name.

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The Best Thing Since Sliced Bread

Yesterday my beautiful wife (BW for short) said to me: "You're the best thing since sliced bread," an idiom that I've heard before, but never applying to me.

This set me to thinking. If I'm the best thing since sliced bread, does that mean I play second fiddle to an overgrown yeast reaction cut up into thin pieces? I thought about all the possibilities. Maybe it was just a hyperbole wherein the exaggeration was "since sliced bread" meaning since, like, forever, you know? Then I thought, "maybe she really means it." Then I thought, "well, I could ask the blog world what she means." Then I thought, "I could just ask her what she means."

So I went back into where she was, and I said, "You know how you said I was the best thing since sliced bread?"

"Mmmmhumm"

"Well, does that include or exclude sliced bread?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean am I better than sliced bread or not?" I enquire, trying not to look too concerned by the matter.

"I'm gonna have to go with the sliced bread on this one."

"Uh huh." I wonder if I should be concerned.

"So, this sliced bread fetish.... What's so great about an overgrown yeast reaction cut up into thin pieces?"

She responded by telling me about how on her mission in Russia, they didn't have sliced bread. So basically, I'm the best thing that has happened to her since her mission.

I'm okay with that explanation. (It does leave my ego intact, which is a bonus...) We've talked about how we are glad we met when we did. We are grateful for the life experiences we were able to have before we met such that we were the people we were when we met. The version of BW that I fell in love with is the post-mission, post-foreign-exchange experience BW. The version of me that she fell in love with is the version who went though all of my life experiences up to that point. Take away any of those life-shaping experiences, and what you're left with is a different person.

So, with that in mind, I'm okay that I'm the best thing to happen to her since sliced bread. Ok. Cool.

And dear, for the record, you're the best thing to happen to me since the killer rat-infested, monstrous cockroach laden, sewer-flooded streets of Brazil, too. I love you! :)

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