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So tonight was our last Lamaze class, the highlight of which was receiving a pamphlet called “To the Grandmother of the Breastfed Baby”.

A title that better reflects its content would be something like “We know you bottle-fed you kids and they all turned out just fine, but please shut up and try to be supportive.” It’s a handy enough little pamphlet and covers all the basics (“are you sure you have enough milk? a little cereal will help him/her sleep through the night…”), but I can’t imagine actually handing such a pamphlet over to my mom or mother-in-law–or anyone I wanted to have a decent relationship with. Does it get more passive-aggressive? If the hospital wants to spread the word, perhaps they should consider an anonymous mass mailing campaign.

We both enjoyed the classes and got a lot out of them, but I know we also both had our moments of eye rolling and crankiness. These moments had two triggers: (1) When things got very evangelical on the merits of natural childbirth and fell back on the old “women have been doing this for thousands of years” trop, I always wanted to yell out, “Yes, and women died, too.” I just finished reading “The Six Wives of Henry VIII”, for example, in which three women had eleven pregancies resulting in three live children and two live mothers between them. (2) The second awkward moment for us came whenever we were asked to visualize or draw something. These activities always put Matt and me in sourballs-against-the-world mode.

Still, I highly recommend Lamaze classes and am glad I took the series. Now I just have to finish my birth plan and get sign off from my doctor before actually giving birth.

Besides Lamaze, Matt and I are about 75% where we should be to get ready for baby. I’m full term today, so that means we are behind. We’ve got a crib, dresser, and glider in the nursery. But the room itself has nothing on the walls, we still haven’t rehung the doors from when we painted, and the window has no shade yet. I’m not too worried about that, but this week I do think Matt and I have to–at a minimum–install the carseat and pack our bags for the hospital.

More soon. It’s after eleven and the combination of Lamaze and Rosh Hashanah made for a very busy weekend. So I’m off to sleep.

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