Happy 4th of July

The Lamaze class was scheduled from 10 to 12 this morning. My tummy was bothering me a bit, but I thought it was just morning hunger pang. I had some congee for breakfast and hoped that the pain would go away soon.

The class was nothing like how I imagined it to be. First of all, it was held in a lecture hall with fixed seats (I thought we'd be sitting on the floor). When we got in, a young male doctor was up in front of a digital projector. This part of the class was called "Q&A: Face to Face with a Doctor". However, instead of talking about birth-related issues, he was happily talking about his experience as an OB/GYN. I soon realized why: Everyone was just sitting there, passively listening (well, most men were playing with their cell phones). There was no Q or A! What was bizarre was the fact that the couple next to us was diligently taking notes. I wondered what they could possibly be writing down (that the doctor has 2 kids of his own? that he's been a doctor for 10 years?). The young doctor tried to make it interactive, but his attempts failed miserably. Whenever he stopped and asked if the audience had any questions, all he'd get was the audience staring back without any noticeable response.

About half an hour in, the young doctor was obviously getting desperate. He started talking about interns fainting in the Delivery Room, yet the audience was still unresponsive. I decided that something had to be done before he began his next joke with "Three preggos walk into a bar...".

"(dry laugh)... does anyone have any questions?" the poor doctor tried one more time.
I shot up my right hand and started talking before he could acknowledge me, "I have 3 questions. First, is food and water allowed while I'm in labor? I mean, even if... say, I decided to have an epidural? Would I be allowed to eat or drink?" Half way through my question, I realized I didn't know how to say "in labor" or "an epidural" in Chinese. I should look them up.
You can tell the young doctor was relieved 'cause now we were stepping into the realm of his expertise. His voice perked up and he answered like... well, like a doctor.
"My second question is about pain management options."
Yes, I used those words "pain management options". I came to love and have been familiar with those words since my very first surgery.
I continued, "I don't know if I'd want or need an epidural yet. However, when I do, how early do I have to inform my doctor about my decision? Is there any necessary procedure before the administration of an epidural? For instance, will I have to get a blood test done?" The audience was obviously impressed/intrigued. I could feel their eyes on me as if wondering, "who the hell is this woman?" What they didn't know is that I'm just a pregnant woman who has had quite a bit of hospital experience and who would like to know her options when it comes to pain relief.

By now, the young doctor was smiling and talking with his hand more.

I asked my last question about rooming in with the baby. It really wasn't a question 'cause I know I'd want Peanut with me 24 hours a day while I'm in the hospital. I only asked about it because, knowing how young Taiwanese moms consider sleeping with the baby a disturbance, I thought it's important that the doctor encourages these young couples to room in with their newborns.

After my 3 questions, the woman behind us asked the doctor about allergies and anesthesia. It's so typically Taiwanese (or should I go all out and say Asian): No one wants to be the first to do anything, but they're more than happy to follow once someone else has paved the way.

The "Lamaze" part of the Lamaze class turned out to be a total waste of time. Instead of explaining the breathing techniques in detail and having us practice those techniques under her supervision, the instructor spent the majority of the lecture on the origin, history, and medical background of the Lamaze breathing techniques. Her way of making it interactive was to put the audience on the spot. For instance, she randomly selected dads who were sitting close to her and asked them to tell her some of the stereotypical images of birth that they have seen in modern media (okay, it was an honest mistake because she wasn't there to witness how miserable the young male doctor was in the first hour). As expected, she too had her self-esteem as an instructor shattered by the cold rejection and flat-out disinterest from the audience. Unfortunately for her, I was so bored out of my mind and my tummy was getting so upset at this point that I simply watched on as she crashed and burned: talking at the audience, chuckling at her own jokes, going through her slides at an increasing speed, and demonstrating how to use the birthing ball in a half-ass manner.

Bill devoted all his attention to playing games and updating his Facebook status on his iPhone during this truly painful part of the class. Periodically he'd remind me to stop shaking my head (I could not believe how bad this class was). "It looks really bad, babe," Bill'd say.

Afterwards, we practically bolted out of the hospital ("Thanks for nothing, doctors!") and went to Dan Ryans for an all-American lunch to celebrate Fourth of July. Bill had chillies and a hot dog, and I had some French Toast (I know, it's not really American, but we thought that's the easiest thing for my tummy to take). I ate vvveeerrrrryyyy slowly and could only finish one slice of toast.

After lunch, I went home to nap while Bill went to get a massage and do some shopping.

Shortly after Bill got home in the evening, my stomach was hurting so much that I could not find comfort no matter what I did. It felt as if my stomach was wrung tight into a knot. Even though I was standing in front of an AC on full blast, sweat was dripping down my body. Sharp pain came in waves, and I wondered if this is what contractions feel like every time I rode one out (and I couldn't use any Lamaze breathing techniques 'cause I didn't learn any this morning). After a half-hour battle, I ended up hovering over the toilet. Yup! Another puking episode.

We didn't have to go to the ER this time 'cause the puking eventually stopped on its own (well, I didn't have much food in my stomach to begin with). While I was out, Bill did some research online and found that it is not uncommon for pregnant women to experience such degree of discomfort toward the end of their pregnancies, especially if they're carrying high like I am. We just have to be extremely careful with what I put into my mouth. The list of "No-No foods" is getting longer, and it really sucks 'cause I love eating!

We're moving my next prenatal appointment up to next Monday to ask Dr. Liu what we could do to stop this painful process. Peanut and I can't live on saltine crackers and water for the remaining 2 months. Plus, we'd really like to have some chocolate.