Rehearsal?
How can you rehearse something that is completely different from woman to woman and even pregnancy to pregnancy?
How do you explain the excruciating pain you're about to go through but that somehow isn't bad enough to stop women from doing this more than once?
Last night 16 very pregnant women and their very anxious husbands sat down in a circle in a basement room at the RAF Lakenheath hospital hoping to find out the secrets of one of life's biggest events.
To start the night off with a bang we were shown a short movie of several women giving birth while we tried to eat some of the treats everybody brought. I'll tell you this, chili and lil' smokies just don't taste the same when watching a baby's head squeezing out of somebody's stretched-to-it's-limits lady-bits.
After the movie and the few bites of food we managed to eat we all did a show-and-tell with our "to-go" bags. Most contained expected items like cameras, robes and adorable baby clothes and some included less common things like knitting projects and shower shoes. I think we all got a few good ideas from each other and one thing I want to get is a non toxic ink pad and paper since the hospital doesn't give you your baby's first footprint if you don't bring the supplies.
Then the actual rehearsal started. This is when the fun began. We were all given a clothespin each, asked to attach it to the sensitive skin underneath the top of our arms close to our arm pits, leave them on for 60 seconds and continue a normal conversation with our husbands. Yikes. Interestingly enough, most of the squeals of pain came from the men in the room. This was repeated every five minutes. Next we were shown different ways to stand and breathe to better deal with the pain of the clothespin. There was the eight-grade school dance move (chin to chin), the ninth-grade school dance move (butt to crotch) and the squat and curl move. Some of us made up our own moves, like the ninth-grade behind the school move (pressed up against the wall face to face). Diver Dude found it very amusing that when he was in ninth grade I wasn't actually born yet.
During these "contraction experiments" we all moved through the hospital like a big pregnant herd towards L&D met by concerned and confused looks from bystanders.
When we all bruised and giggly finally got to L&D we were given a quick tour of one of the delivery rooms. I was pleasantly surprised to find a comfy, newly renovated room with all kinds of creature comforts like private bathroom, big bed, birthing ball and a flat screen TV. Our mid-wife then quickly selected two of the husbands for a show and tell. One of the boys were put in the bed, hooked up to several monitors, and complimented on his beautiful labor and full dilation. He was then instructed to try out a number of ways to push cheered on by his male partner. He pushed on his back with legs up in the air, he pushed side-ways while his partner held his leg back, he pushed leaned up against the back of the bed and he pushed using the squatting bar attached to the bed. I'm surprised none of us went into labor from laughing so hard at the poor guy holding his legs back while violently grunting and focusing on his partners count down from ten.
Labor Rehearsal was a fun experience and if the big day includes any of the humor and lightheartedness of last night I'm game. And if real contractions feel anything like a clothespin pinching your skin - bring it on!
