The woman running our prenatal class yesterday turned out to be hugely more useful than the hippie doula running the baby-bath thing we did last week, which was a huge relief. Last week’s course was 25 minutes of information fluffed out into two hours with the help of constant reassurances that there’s no rules, everything’s fine, you just need to be considerate and loving and there are no rules and everything’s fine.
I imagine that’s helpful for some people, but when both of you are Type-A personalities that straddle the line between OCD and rabies it’s a more than a little crazymaking. If you’re not going to add some value to the handout and the 20 minute video then we might as well not have shown up, you know? But sadly it was about as useful as, say, any of these. “When treating dry skin: olive oil, yes! 10-W-30, no!” Thanks, hippie.
But despite the second course’s more pragmatic bent, I don’t think the creators of these courses are quite geared up to deal with people like my wife and I. At one point, just to give you a glimpse of what the inside of our relationship looks like, our prenatal instructor asked the class “what qualities in your partner would you like your baby to have?” And, of course, she started with me and my wife. I’m kind of proud of myself for this, because I didn’t miss a beat before answering “She sleeps through the night.” That sort of threw off the instructor, who I suspect was looking for the answers everyone else gave – sense of humor, kindness, lovely hair, that sort of nonsense – but my wife did me proud as well, answering “He eats a lot”, as smooth as could be.
This is what love looks like. Forget your assurances and companionship and feelings and validation; buy a puppy and a hallmark card for that. True love gets things done.