did they take classes for this 800 years ago? hell, 80 years ago? WELL? DID THEY?

i fought the law and ...

so mrs nice guy and i took our first birthing class last night. it's interesting -- every time i mention to someone that we're taking a childbirth class, the responses fall into just two categories:

1) oh. you mean lamaze.
2) what, are you like giving birth underwater with dolphins or something you hippy freak?

both, technically, are inaccurate. it's a five week program. i have no idea really what is coming over the next four weeks (except that i have to bring snacks next wednesday and i probably shouldn't bring whiskey). last night's class was nice. largely demystifying. a bunch of other neurotic vaguely liberal semi-hipster parents-to-be gathered in a circle and listened with dread as our birthing class teacher lady dished out heaping piles of Truth. we were all skeptically eyeing each other, competing on one level or another: one couple was clearly the most sanctimonious about the fact that they will NEVER USE PAIN MEDICATION EVER ($2397 says they're the first to cave); another couple went the distance to passive-aggressively assert what successful and well-connected actors they were. mrs nice guy and i handily won the award for Most Vomity couple. so at least there's that.

we learned all kinds of useful things like what going into labor feels like (it depends on the woman), how long it lasts (it depends on the woman), how much it hurts (it depends on the woman), what coping techniques work (it depends on the woman), whether to use a doula (it depends on the woman) and so on. you know, we really got our money's worth.

most touching classtime bonding moment: the birth-class-teacherlady stressed, in an offhand sort of way, the importance that the ladies all practice their kegel exercises. as she said this, i looked over at the young, slightly dour couple to my immediate left. she looked up at him and smiled, sweetly, before she said "i'm doing them right now." i looked away swiftly, the hot heat of fiery shame on my cheeks ... but not soon enough -- they SAW ME LOOKING. so basically they knew that i knew that she was flexing her groin. actually, mr nice guy suspects that EVERYONE in the room was secretly doing kegels at this point. i know i was. i felt dirty. and excited. i squeezed mrs nice guy's arm. she later informed me that she had, indeed, also been doing her kegels.

but! i digress. here's the big scary fact of the week, kids: mrs nice guy has a mucus plug inside her. seriously. save yourself and stop reading now.

still here? great! let's continue. a mucus plug is a SNOT CORK PLUGGING MY WIFE'S CROTCH LIKE A DUTCH BOY'S THUMB IN A DYKE! don't take it from me, though. here's the american pregnancy assoc:

throughout pregnancy a mucus plug blocks the opening to the cervix to prevent bacteria from entering. Before labor, this mucus plug is expelled so that the cervix can open to allow the baby to pass through to prepare for delivery.

WHAT THE FUCK!? did you get that? the snot cork is expelled. from my wife's no-no zone. GAH! want to know how the birthclass teacher lady explained it? she said in some cases it's like chicken fat shaking loose from your cooch. tell me that doesn't sound finger lickin' good. (to be totally honest with you, the 10-year-old inside me really wants mrs nice guy to practice her kegels so she can shoot that mucus plug clear across the room, maybe get it to stick to the wall. but the 30-year-old in me really thinks that's unspeakably nasty. the 16-year-old in me, however, doesn't see what all the fuss is about; he discharges viscous bodily substances at frequent intervals and rather enjoys it.)


on second thought, maybe i should bring whiskey to next week's class.