sloth and chunk had the right idea

Hi everybody! I intended to write a blog post on Sunday and it didn't happen. So if you just poured a fresh cup of coffee and are jonesing for a good long read, you're in luck.

Here's the latest, in reverse chronological order (for no reason in particular):

We had our 30-week appointment this morning. Met another doctor in the practice, Doc M, and I adore her. Doc G is still my most favorite, but Doc M is a close second. She asked about my shortness of breath without prompting. Also told me what would warrant a call to their office -- decreased fetal movement or four contractions in an hour. And she did her best to describe what a contraction feels like. Also, she was wearing scrubs. This seems like the obvious choice, which is why I don't fully trust doctors who opt for the shirt/tie/lab coat combo. Do they not know that they have the option of working in PJs? What gives? Point is, I like Doc M.

Belly measurement was 31" (normal), heartbeat was in the 150s (normal). She also probed my belly to figure out how Tater is oriented. I feel most of his movements on my left side, so I guessed he was lying across my stomach. That's her guess too, though she thinks he's at a downward angle. Head on my right-hand side, angled down. Legs on my left-hand side, angled up. Apparently we'll have a better idea around weeks 34 or 36 how he'll be oriented at the time of delivery. If nothing else, I'm thankful that he's tending in the right direction. I'm also thankful that I still have a window, however small, into the inner-workings of my body. Affirmation rocks.

In other news, we are making solid progress in the nursery. Yesterday a handyman replaced the wall sconces in the room and installed a dimmer switch. First time I've hired a handyman, and I have no regrets. He was super fast and relatively cheap. Also, Brad and I avoided certain electrocution. The best part is the atrocious wall sconces which were spotlighting the crib with an exposed light bulb have been replaced by upward-facing, tasteful fixtures. I no longer fear blinding Tater with tacky lighting. Phew. (Huge thanks to MomRo for the fixtures and Yelp for the handyman reviews.)

Speaking of quashing fears, over the weekend, Brad and I took our first two parenting classes at Prentice. Saturday morning we learned all about breastfeeding. Turns out the only thing I really knew about breastfeeding before the class was that it involved breasts and milk. Everything else was new information. I walked away feeling a bit more prepared to tackle nourishing Tater and I'm crossing my fingers that the instructor will be the lactation consultant on duty at the hospital when Tater is born.

I cannot say the same for the CPR instructor we encountered on Sunday morning. Indulge me for a moment, and call up an image of Anne Ramsey. Not ringing a bell? She starred in Throw Mama from the Train and Goonies. Our instructor was the spitting image of Ms. Ramsey, and she was doing her best to channel her Goonies character while teaching the class. I contend this is the wrong approach when confronting a room filled with expectant parents who are learning how to respond should the miracles growing in their respective wombs stop breathing one day. The class should have been titled, "How to Scare the Ever-Loving Sh*t Out of Future Moms and Dads."

After assuring us that it would be nearly impossible to find a properly trained individual to check the installation of our car seats within the Chicago city limits, one of the class participants asked for advice for parents who don't have a car and will be traveling in cabs. Honest to goodness, here's how the conversation unfolded:

Mama Fratelli: "Don't worry. We've done a lot of research on this issue, and you do not have to secure your car seat in a cab."

Carless (but not careless) Parent: "Um, that doesn't really address my concern."

Mama Fratelli: "No, really, It's not illegal. If the cab gets into an accident, you won't get a ticket."

Carless Parent: "I'm not so worried about the ticket. I'm worried about the safety of my newborn infant."

Mama Fratelli: "I know what I'm talking about."

Carless Parent: "Let me put it this way. How do I keep the baby safe in a car seat in a cab?"

Mama Fratelli: "You go with your gut. You use the seatbelt to strap them in. But you know how cabs are in this city.... Any other questions?"

Unfortunately, she didn't get around to explaining that last comment. I offered the possibility of looking for a car service that comes equipped with properly installed infant car seats, as I learned from my friend McKenzie that such services exist in NYC. Mama Fratelli quickly interjected that no such services would exist in Chicago. Because people in NYC do not have cars, but people in Chicago do. Clearly.

Other joys of the CPR class: Mama Fratelli rejects any suggestion that recalling the beat of Stayin' Alive or Another One Bites the Dust will help one administering CPR to ensure chest compressions are properly timed. Why? "Who can remember those lyrics?" (Um, Mama, it's not the lyrics, it's the baseline.) Instead, Mama Fratelli believes that we will never get the sound of her gruff counting out of our heads. I'm sure experts agree. Oh, and Mama Fratelli doesn't think that pregnant women should practice giving children a full 30 chest compressions, because we are fragile beings. Instead, she counted to 20 for us, without explanation (until I asked). Let's hope THAT gruff counting isn't what is seared into my brain. Mama also thinks it's appropriate to count aloud, while a video is playing with someone else counting aloud, even though they are off-sync. Can you tell this class was driving my insane?

Don't even get me started on Mama's terrifying rant about SIDS (she included helpful information such as more boy babies die than girl babies) and her exhaustive list of things on which our babies will inevitably choke (hotdogs, buttons, raisins, pennies, hotdogs, gummy bears, Lucky Charms, hotdogs . . . oh, and undercooked oatmeal).

Glass-half-full Brad pointed out that we both learned how to administer CPR to an infant/child and how to respond to a choking infant/child. Honestly, I feel like I've already forgotten most of it. I guess I'll study the American Heart Association pamphlet that Mama distributed. And perhaps look for a different class to help me forget.

So, to recap, what have we learned? Breastfeeding class is totally worth the money. CPR class with Mama Fratelli at the helm is not worth the price of an admission ticket to Throw Mama from the Train.

Never doubt the instincts of Sloth and Chunk.