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Too Funny

Back in March, I posted that I was freaked out because an online due date calculator which calculated all sorts of things from LMP to conception to IVF retrieval & transfer dates and even due dates for singletons, twins, triplets, and quads as well as dates you could have CVS, amnio, and glucose tolerance tests done had calculated my due date with triplets as September 19th. Since technically my 40 week due date was November 7, this completely freaked me out.

Hey, guess what? It was 100% correct! That’s even freakier!

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Too Funny

Back in March, I posted that I was freaked out because an online due date calculator which calculated all sorts of things from LMP to conception to IVF retrieval & transfer dates and even due dates for singletons, twins, triplets, and quads as well as dates you could have CVS, amnio, and glucose tolerance tests done had calculated my due date with triplets as September 19th. Since technically my 40 week due date was November 7, this completely freaked me out.

Hey, guess what? It was 100% correct! That's even freakier!

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Some commenters say that my fertility envy will fade with time. Other commenters say it will never go away. Some say when I get to my ideal family size I’ll feel better. Funny, I always wanted four children, which I’ll have after this, but I never considered that it would be only one pregnancy. I suspect that it varies from person to person… there’s no right answer here. And I definitely don’t begrudge most people their pregnancies. Not even fertile myrtles. Not even, heaven help me, Michelle Duggar. But I grieve my inability to just BE pregnant. I grieve the freedom to say, as the Duggars say, that I’ll have chilren until God tells me not to. I don’t want 17 children per se. I want the freedom to make that choice. And I grieve the loss of that choice.

One anonymous commenter wrote:

It will fade, you will feel better over time.
For me pregnancy was almost the time to rehash and process all my infertility feelings. And of course, you’re not a mother yet. Sure you wanted pregnancy, but what you REALLY wnated is the small head in the hollow of your neck, a baby nuzzling at your breast, a toddler shouting MUMMY and running over to hug you.
Those are the things that will heal you, not a terbutaline pump in the leg and bedrest.

The thing that struck me the most was : And of course, you’re not a mother yet.

Oh but I am. If you’re newish to my blog you may have missed it, but I have a beautiful almost-four year old foster son. He’s not really a foster son, exactly, because he was a private placement, but I’m his legal guardian. I may not be his biological mother, but I’ve been his mother for almost 3 years. He knows no other mother. I could not love him one teeney bit more if I had given birth to him. I have no doubt that I could adopt a dozen children and love them just as much. I also know that I still would have grieved the loss of this pregnancy experience had I never gotten this far. Even though it makes no difference in how much I love my beautiful boy. J will probably be with us forever. He is my son in every sense except the legal sense. He knows no parents but us. There is no greater joy in this world than being a parent, and still, the pain of infertility is as raw as it ever was.

It’s rare that it is someone else’s pregnancy that brings out the pain for me. It’s usually something far more personal, something intrinsic in myself. This time it happened to be someone else’s pregnancy. Someone who got pregnant within six weeks of getting married. She certainly didn’t do it to upset me. And it’s certainly not her fault that it did. And most people in the community don’t even realize that I COULD be feeling left behind in the child-bearing department. After all, we’ve been parents for three years. And now we’re having triplets. So how could we possibly feel remotely out of place amongst those having their their third, fourth, fifth…?

It’s true though… it’s these babies that will ultimately heal me, not the terbutaline pump and the bed rest. The terbutaline pump and the bedrest do nothing but remind me that this is NOT a normal pregnancy and that I’m STILL set apart from most pregnant women. But I’ll love these babies. Of that there is little doubt.

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Some commenters say that my fertility envy will fade with time. Other commenters say it will never go away. Some say when I get to my ideal family size I'll feel better. Funny, I always wanted four children, which I'll have after this, but I never considered that it would be only one pregnancy. I suspect that it varies from person to person… there's no right answer here. And I definitely don't begrudge most people their pregnancies. Not even fertile myrtles. Not even, heaven help me, Michelle Duggar. But I grieve my inability to just BE pregnant. I grieve the freedom to say, as the Duggars say, that I'll have chilren until God tells me not to. I don't want 17 children per se. I want the freedom to make that choice. And I grieve the loss of that choice.

One anonymous commenter wrote:

It will fade, you will feel better over time.
For me pregnancy was almost the time to rehash and process all my infertility feelings. And of course, you're not a mother yet. Sure you wanted pregnancy, but what you REALLY wnated is the small head in the hollow of your neck, a baby nuzzling at your breast, a toddler shouting MUMMY and running over to hug you.
Those are the things that will heal you, not a terbutaline pump in the leg and bedrest.

The thing that struck me the most was : And of course, you're not a mother yet.

Oh but I am. If you're newish to my blog you may have missed it, but I have a beautiful almost-four year old foster son. He's not really a foster son, exactly, because he was a private placement, but I'm his legal guardian. I may not be his biological mother, but I've been his mother for almost 3 years. He knows no other mother. I could not love him one teeney bit more if I had given birth to him. I have no doubt that I could adopt a dozen children and love them just as much. I also know that I still would have grieved the loss of this pregnancy experience had I never gotten this far. Even though it makes no difference in how much I love my beautiful boy. J will probably be with us forever. He is my son in every sense except the legal sense. He knows no parents but us. There is no greater joy in this world than being a parent, and still, the pain of infertility is as raw as it ever was.

It's rare that it is someone else's pregnancy that brings out the pain for me. It's usually something far more personal, something intrinsic in myself. This time it happened to be someone else's pregnancy. Someone who got pregnant within six weeks of getting married. She certainly didn't do it to upset me. And it's certainly not her fault that it did. And most people in the community don't even realize that I COULD be feeling left behind in the child-bearing department. After all, we've been parents for three years. And now we're having triplets. So how could we possibly feel remotely out of place amongst those having their their third, fourth, fifth…?

It's true though… it's these babies that will ultimately heal me, not the terbutaline pump and the bed rest. The terbutaline pump and the bedrest do nothing but remind me that this is NOT a normal pregnancy and that I'm STILL set apart from most pregnant women. But I'll love these babies. Of that there is little doubt.

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You’d think this would go away. This ridiculous infertile envy of mine. I’m pregnant for crying out loud. I know lots of people look at my blog, see that I’m pregnant and click away immediately, sorry that they accidentally stumbled on yet another pregnancy blog. I’m one of THEM. One of the traitors. No longer one of the team. But once a stirrup queen, always a stirrup queen, I say. Pregnancy has made me no less infertile. Pregnancy has made me no less capable of just deciding that I want to get pregnant and making it happen. Pregnancy has not created in me the freedom to make my own reproductive choices without the interference of a team of doctors.

Oh, but what’s that, you say? Triplets? Why, oh why would I ever need to contemplate more children anyway? I’ll tell you why! Because if I were fertile, I’d be ABLE to contemplate that without anyone asking me such a ridiculous question, that’s why. Because never in my life did it occur to me that I would have one pregnancy and be done. Because it never occured to me that my only pregnancy experience would be a high-risk, bed-ridden, terbutaline-laden experience.

And where does the envy come in? I have a friend who got married in early February. On my husband’s birthday, in fact. I was in the middle of a doomed IUI cycle, or so I thought. I had, in fact, that morning been to a monitoring appointment in which a doctor had given me yet another quizzical look and basically said, “Well, at least we know this is the last cycle, and we’re moving on to IVF next cycle.” My friend is a lovely woman, and she married a lovely gentleman, another friend of ours, and we couldn’t be happier for them. But I was near tears all day. I’m not normally like that during a cycle. I normally take the ups and downs of a treatment cycle fairly well, but that cycle just kept going SO BADLY and I was so very tired. And it was February, which meant that the bride, beautiful and radiant, had plenty of time left in the year to get pregnant and have a baby before year’s end.

And guess what? She’s due to have her first baby in December. Which means she got pregnant a month after I did. (I had my IUI mid-February that month to get pregnant with the triplets). And I wouldn’t wish infertiity on her. I really wouldn’t. Not for one, single, solitary second. I wouldn’t wish it on ANYONE, least of all her. But… but… couldn’t she at least be due in January? Couldn’t I have just been wrong once?

I am surrounded, and I mean SURROUNDED by pregnant women in my community. It’s one of the pitfalls of being an infertile woman living in an Orthodox Jewish Community. One woman is due around the same time that the triplets should be making their debut with her first from her second IVF cycle and I couldn’t be happier for her. The others, as far as I know had no struggles (they are all relatively newly-weds, or they are on their second, third, or fourth children in pretty short time spans). Between early July and the beginning of October, there are 10 babies (counting each of the triplets as one baby) expected (and now, if you expand to December, 11 counting this friend I described above) in a one mile radius. Four were born in the last 10 days. Three of us are expecting arrivals in late September (including me). You would THINK that with me being one of the pregnant ones for once, I wouldn’t be jealous. But I am. I really am. And worse, there’s a piece of me that just HATES that I’m not special, and a piece of me that LOVES that the triplets set me apart from all the other deliveries coming, because at least in that sense, my babies still ARE the special ones. Because I really AM that petty and childish.

You’d think I could just be genuinely happy for everyone else’s good news. And usually I am. I truly do not believe there is a limited amount of fertility in this world. I don’t believe that another woman’s pregnancy takes away from my “chances” of a pregnancy. And yet, when I learned of my friend’s pregnancy, I felt hollow and empty and mean. I wanted to leave the room and cry if I could, but I knew I couldn’t. And no one, NO ONE, understands why it would matter to me. I mean, I hit the jackpot, right? Triplets! I never have to worry about having kids again, right? Except that I hate that people just assume it’s okay to say that. “Well, at least you’re done and you never have to do this again.” What a horrible thing to say. What if I WANT this again? How exactly is having a catheter in my leg pumping medicine into me 24/7 a fun pregnancy experience? Why is it okay to assume that I’m just loving this “perfect” pregnancy from my bed or recliner from which I am allowed to emerge for a meal or for the bathroom or for a doctor’s appointment, but for nothing else?

But it’s not fair of me to blame fertile myrtles either. My friend never did anything to me. She isn’t even the one that told me she was pregnant (I’m closer with her sister who told me because I talk to her far more often). She’s never said “nanny nanny boo boo. it took you five years and tens of thousands of dollars of treatment, but I only took a month, so pbbbbt!” I’m sure it’s never occurred to her. She’s quiet and unassumming and beautiful and so unbelievably perfect. I’m not angry at her. I’m angry at myself for not being mature enough to just be happy for her. After all, I have everything that I wanted. I have an amazing husband. I have the pregnancy I begged and cried and prayed for (even though technically I prayed for a SINGLETON pregnancy). I have a beautiful amazing foster son. I have a home I love and a supportive community. I couldn’t ask for more.

And yet, I still envy her, and I hate myself for that.

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You'd think this would go away. This ridiculous infertile envy of mine. I'm pregnant for crying out loud. I know lots of people look at my blog, see that I'm pregnant and click away immediately, sorry that they accidentally stumbled on yet another pregnancy blog. I'm one of THEM. One of the traitors. No longer one of the team. But once a stirrup queen, always a stirrup queen, I say. Pregnancy has made me no less infertile. Pregnancy has made me no less capable of just deciding that I want to get pregnant and making it happen. Pregnancy has not created in me the freedom to make my own reproductive choices without the interference of a team of doctors.

Oh, but what's that, you say? Triplets? Why, oh why would I ever need to contemplate more children anyway? I'll tell you why! Because if I were fertile, I'd be ABLE to contemplate that without anyone asking me such a ridiculous question, that's why. Because never in my life did it occur to me that I would have one pregnancy and be done. Because it never occured to me that my only pregnancy experience would be a high-risk, bed-ridden, terbutaline-laden experience.

And where does the envy come in? I have a friend who got married in early February. On my husband's birthday, in fact. I was in the middle of a doomed IUI cycle, or so I thought. I had, in fact, that morning been to a monitoring appointment in which a doctor had given me yet another quizzical look and basically said, "Well, at least we know this is the last cycle, and we're moving on to IVF next cycle." My friend is a lovely woman, and she married a lovely gentleman, another friend of ours, and we couldn't be happier for them. But I was near tears all day. I'm not normally like that during a cycle. I normally take the ups and downs of a treatment cycle fairly well, but that cycle just kept going SO BADLY and I was so very tired. And it was February, which meant that the bride, beautiful and radiant, had plenty of time left in the year to get pregnant and have a baby before year's end.

And guess what? She's due to have her first baby in December. Which means she got pregnant a month after I did. (I had my IUI mid-February that month to get pregnant with the triplets). And I wouldn't wish infertiity on her. I really wouldn't. Not for one, single, solitary second. I wouldn't wish it on ANYONE, least of all her. But… but… couldn't she at least be due in January? Couldn't I have just been wrong once?

I am surrounded, and I mean SURROUNDED by pregnant women in my community. It's one of the pitfalls of being an infertile woman living in an Orthodox Jewish Community. One woman is due around the same time that the triplets should be making their debut with her first from her second IVF cycle and I couldn't be happier for her. The others, as far as I know had no struggles (they are all relatively newly-weds, or they are on their second, third, or fourth children in pretty short time spans). Between early July and the beginning of October, there are 10 babies (counting each of the triplets as one baby) expected (and now, if you expand to December, 11 counting this friend I described above) in a one mile radius. Four were born in the last 10 days. Three of us are expecting arrivals in late September (including me). You would THINK that with me being one of the pregnant ones for once, I wouldn't be jealous. But I am. I really am. And worse, there's a piece of me that just HATES that I'm not special, and a piece of me that LOVES that the triplets set me apart from all the other deliveries coming, because at least in that sense, my babies still ARE the special ones. Because I really AM that petty and childish.

You'd think I could just be genuinely happy for everyone else's good news. And usually I am. I truly do not believe there is a limited amount of fertility in this world. I don't believe that another woman's pregnancy takes away from my "chances" of a pregnancy. And yet, when I learned of my friend's pregnancy, I felt hollow and empty and mean. I wanted to leave the room and cry if I could, but I knew I couldn't. And no one, NO ONE, understands why it would matter to me. I mean, I hit the jackpot, right? Triplets! I never have to worry about having kids again, right? Except that I hate that people just assume it's okay to say that. "Well, at least you're done and you never have to do this again." What a horrible thing to say. What if I WANT this again? How exactly is having a catheter in my leg pumping medicine into me 24/7 a fun pregnancy experience? Why is it okay to assume that I'm just loving this "perfect" pregnancy from my bed or recliner from which I am allowed to emerge for a meal or for the bathroom or for a doctor's appointment, but for nothing else?

But it's not fair of me to blame fertile myrtles either. My friend never did anything to me. She isn't even the one that told me she was pregnant (I'm closer with her sister who told me because I talk to her far more often). She's never said "nanny nanny boo boo. it took you five years and tens of thousands of dollars of treatment, but I only took a month, so pbbbbt!" I'm sure it's never occurred to her. She's quiet and unassumming and beautiful and so unbelievably perfect. I'm not angry at her. I'm angry at myself for not being mature enough to just be happy for her. After all, I have everything that I wanted. I have an amazing husband. I have the pregnancy I begged and cried and prayed for (even though technically I prayed for a SINGLETON pregnancy). I have a beautiful amazing foster son. I have a home I love and a supportive community. I couldn't ask for more.

And yet, I still envy her, and I hate myself for that.

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DC Get-Together
I think I posted that I was going to get together with some DC-area bloggers. I almost chickened out, but I decided to be a grown-up and just walk up to a group of random women who looked like they might just be a bunch of infertility bloggers. Thank heavens I picked the right group! There were nine of us there, and we really had a terrific time. I felt a little bit awkward at first, being the token pregnant-lady there, and it’s not like I can even hide it at this point. I mean, I’m fat in the first place, but at this point, I definitely am visibly pregnant and I can’t just pass it off as too many pints of Ben and Jerry’s. Anyway, no one seemed too bothered by it. My husband had suggested I wear a nametag that said, “Hello My Name Is Myrtle” but I declined. 😉

At any rate, it was a fabulous group of women and I’m thrilled to pieces that I got over my ridiculous self long enough to take a deep breath and walk up to a group of strangers, because it was truly the most enjoyable evening I’ve had in quite some time. Even if I did have to get up to pee four times (and seriously, we could NOT have been seated further away from the bathroom!). Good thing I’d insisted on sitting on the end. What a fabulous group of women we were, though! I think we may have scared the waiter a little bit, but that’s okay. It just means he earned his gratuity, right? It was a touching and hilarious night. Lindsay was so sweet and perfect, and such a doll for organizing the group in the first place. I hope we do this again soon! (though I don’t know if I’ll be able to make the next one… it totally depends on whether I do get stuck on real bedrest… we’ll see) Maybe next time we can have pedicures and mojitos (virgin for me – oh the irony!) at my place. 🙂

Some Questions Answered

Are you going to find out the sexes? Most emphatically, no. I have no intention of finding out what flavor these babies are. I figure I should get to do at least ONE thing the old fashioned way! Plus, our lives will be upside down no matter what, I seriously doubt it’s going to matter whether they’re boys or girls, and it’s likely that we’ll have a mix regardless of how they’re distributed. My husband, I think, would really like to find out. But, well, I kind of have veto power when it comes to the dildo-cam. Plus, his logic with finding out with a singleton was that it would be easier to plan. I don’t think the logic holds with triplets. I don’t think you can really plan for triplets, you just have to pray a lot! 🙂

When are you due? Heck if I know. I don’t even know how to answer that question. I’m due November 6, technically. Except, that’s never going to happen. I will deliver no later than September 26, which is exactly 34 weeks (also erev sukkot). I hope to at LEAST make it to September 12, which is 32 weeks, which I don’t think will be a problem. My perinatologist gets almost all their triplet patients to 34 weeks, with very, very few exceptions.

When does bed rest start? Heck if I know. I was originally told that it would unequivocally start this week. However, that appears to be more flexible than I was originally led to believe. Apparently because I’m doing so well, I get to lead the decision on when bed rest begins. I believe most of why I’m doing so well is that with only a couple of exceptions, if I’m not at work, I’m at home on bed rest. The DC Get Together was one such exception. But I’ve otherwise gone straight home and curled up in a recliner or my bed and not moved until I have to (usually to pee! Gah!). I intend to remain relatively strict about this, because I do enjoy the flexibility to occasionally break my self-imposed rules. I would not be so cavalier about breaking doctor-mandated bed rest. So for the moment, I’m not on bed rest officially and won’t be until I feel it’s necessary or until the doctors get uncomfortable. And that’s all I know.

Some Sad Googling

heavy bleeding contraction-like cramps: I’m going to assume whoever wrote this query is pregnant. Even if you’re not pregnant, the best advice I can give you is to contact your doctor. It could be nothing serious. I hope it’s nothing serious. But your doctor should know what’s going on.

iui cycle failed: I’m so sorry. I’ve been there, and it’s no fun. The best thing for me after a failed cycle was knowing what would be happening next. A new IUI cycle? An IVF cycle? Same Protocol? Change in Protocol? I liked to know all of that ahead of time, before it failed, not because I wanted to be pessimistic, but because it helped me take a failed cycle and psychologically turn it into a new beginning.

cyst in ovaries while pregnant: I haven’t had this problem, and I know it’s not uncommon. But there are so many ways this could be read. It depends on how big the cysts are, how many, what kind of cysts they are, etc. The good news is that you wouldn’t know that you had cysts if your doctor didn’t know, so I don’t have to worry that you aren’t under a doctor’s care. I hope you are able to find out what your options/needs are from your doctor. If you aren’t comfortable with your doctor’s advice, please seek a second or third opinion.

triplet pregnancy blogs: This, of course, isn’t one of the sad ones. You got me. I’ve definitely got a triplet pregnancy blog.

ovaries and kidneys picture with uti: I’m not quite sure what to make of this one. Anyone got any help on this one?

my ovaries hurts is that a sign that i might be pregnacy: More likely your ovaries being sensitive is a sign that you ovulated. The surest sign that you’re pregnant is the presence of hCG in your blood and urine by about 14 days post ovulation. So wait a week or two and POAS.

ovary uncomfortable: That certainly sounds unpleasant, though I often wonder how women know that it is specifically their ovary that feels uncomfortable.

severe pain in my ovaries: Any time someone suggests “severe” pain to me, I suggest contacting your physician. Anything that far outside the range of normal should be reported to your doctor.

cramps near ovaries during early pregnancy is it normal? Yes.

menstrual cramps worse after iui: This is also normal. I didn’t have cramping after all of my IUIs, but I did after a few of them, and it’s very normal. Introducing anything into the uterine environment can cause it to contract, which will cause that cramping feeling. Now if what you meant was after a failed IUI the cramps associated with the subsequent period are worse than normal… well, that’s normal too… especially if you were on progesterone supplements. It’s really unfair.

Something that Shocked Me (in a good way)
I forgot to mention that at my perinatology appointment last week, I’d made a crack at Dr. G about being bitter that they weren’t going to let me push these babies out the old fashioned way. I gave my usual shpiel about how I figure the babies are going to be so tiny that they’ll just come right out, no problem!

His response astounded me. Instead of their usual bit about “fetal distress”, “maternal hemmorhage”, “healthy outcome” and all that rational, logical stuff, he said, “well, it’s just that to do a vaginal triplet delivery everything has to line up perfectly and the odds are really low that it will, especially since you don’t have a lot of room for them to move around in there, but I’ve done it. Both Dr. P and I have done vaginal triplet deliveries.” Really? I mean, REALLY? Here I was just giving my usual joke figuring on the usual rational, logical answer, and I’m hearing that it STILL DOES HAPPEN?

“Look,” he said, “when the time gets closer, if everything is lining up perfectly, which it probably won’t, and you still want to talk about it, we can absolutely do that, but you have to understand how low the odds are of it happening that way, and you have to understand that we reserve the right at all times to tell you that we’re not going to do it.” I totally get that. But I mean… really? It could happen? Even just that 0.0000000001% chance? Really? Sure, but don’t count on it. Especially if the previa doesn’t completely resolve itself (it’s moved significantly, but it’s still in the way a bit).

Still, something about the c-section not being completely written in stone makes me feel a zillion times better. I have the absolute dumbest reason for not wanting a c-section. I want nothing to do with an epidural. Now, if I did a vaginal delivery, I’d still have to have an epidural in place, though I wouldn’t have to have drugs running through it. But my fear of the epidural is two-fold: First, I never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever want a needle in or near my spinal column ever. Second, I don’t want to not be able to feel the lower half of my body. This terrifies me. I had a TIA when I was 23, and it was terrifying not to be able to move or feel my left side. I never want to purposely experience that again. So while I wouldn’t get out of having the needle in/near my spinal column, I COULD get out of having to be numb in my lower half. I mean, it’s NEVER going to happen. There is no possibility that I’m not having a c-section. But there’s something comforting about being able to pretend for a few weeks that I have options.

Update: Carol mentioned that she’d been wondering why a c-section seemed to be the default for triplet deliveries on TV… e.g. is it because it’s easier for the doctors or because vaginal triplet deliveries aren’t possible? The answer is that in MOST cases, vaginal deliveries aren’t safe for mother OR babies. Certainly it IS easier for the doctors (and less liability), but there’s mostly the fact that very few triplet pregnancies really are conducive to safe vaginal deliveries. I’m very certain that I will not be allowed to have a vaginal delivery, but I still find it oddly comforting that my doctors are willing to consider the conversation if by some miracle everything really did line up perfectly and the stars were perfectly aligned and the moons were in all the right houses and I sacrified the right color goat…

Advice Sought re: Childbirth Class
Here’s the thing. I feel like if I were a responsible parent-to-be, I would take a parenting/childbirth class. Except that they are largely geared toward women having singleton, vaginal deliveries, which, we all know, I am not. So there are multiples classes available, except not so much. The closest class to me that’s a multiples class is in Baltimore and it’s only offered on Saturdays, which doesn’t so much work for me. (My rabbi doesn’t seem to want to give me one of those “Get out of being Jewish for a Day” cards… drat!) Okay, so to heck with those options.

I COULD take a caesarean class. EXCEPT, honestly, those are basically about what to expect from the procedure, the anesthesia, and recovery. Oh, and you get to watch a video of a c-section. Now, I’ve seen LOTS of videos of c-sections. I have had surgery before. I am not freaked out or anxious about the c-section per se. My irrational fears of the epidural aside, I have no anxiety about this in the least. I know what is going to happen, I understand my role (“lay there and do what we say”), I know what recovery from abdominal surgery is like, and I know it will suck a lot more than recovery from having my gall bladder removed laproscopically. So what’s the point? Even the nurse at the perinatologist’s office said if I wasn’t feeling anxiety about the c-section, I probably wouldn’t get much out of any such class.

So aside from getting my infant-CPR renewed, which I’d rather do closer to the delivery anyway, what should I do? Should I just accept that you don’t have to take some ridiculous class in order to be a responsible parent-to-be?

My husband also wanted to take a “Daddy Boot Camp” type class but every area hospital that has a Dads 101/Daddy Boot Camp/whatever you want to call it class offers it only on Saturdays, which, again, doesn’t work for us. So now he’s looking for some sort of book, but from what I can tell, all the dad-centric books are awful, so I think he’ll just have to wing it, unless you all have any suggestions.

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