Don't throw the baby...

"Labor is like a journey from Hobart to Smithton," said hippy earth mother midwife.

"So how can we get there?" she continued. She took us through all the scenarios; car via East Coast and Launny, car via Midlands Highway, boat via East Coast, boat via West Coast, or car via Zeehan and Roseberry. Each form of journey corresponded to a particular experience and length of labor.
"Of course your labor could be just like flying direct, and take a couple of hours."

I don't think I'll think about travel in Tasmania in quite the same way again. The highlight was when about half way through she farted quite loudly. "Oooooo sorry that was me!"

About halfway though the third class we were taken out for a MAN talk. I wasn't enthusiastic. The bloke arrived. He had striped pants that were too small for him and a small sole patch. He looked kinda like a older man still holding to the idea that he can be cool. The bloke told us about his move going from being a hardened, tough coal miner to working as a counselor talking to men about their feelings. (Talk about extremes).

He took the four of us blokes to the hospital chapel. Not the wisest move. Now I'm not sure why but Chapels and churches tend to attract stacks of donated items. Consequently the furniture in chapel was all odd. There was also heaps of junk because no one wants to throw it out because, "It was donated!" and "You can 't do that!"

Picture four men (half of whom didn't want to be there) in a chapel, being asked about their feelings, surrounded by candles, flowers and Jesus' with an exploding hearts. Awkward. I thought about how much better the pub would be. This painful experience lasted for an hour. I watched the clock. I tried really hard to be a good participant, but the mish-mash of rubbish in the room and general air of awkwardness made it very hard.

The fourth and final class was last night, and it was by far the shortest and most useful. They brought in a live baby (less than 24 hours old) and showed us how to clean and bath it. A couple of the Mums were freaking out a bit thinking they'd break it. On the other hand the mid wife just chucked it around. It was pretty funny. The baby was returned to its Mother.

She then passed around a toy baby and asked what I'd do to help it settle it down. I rocked it gently in my arms and then put it on my shoulder and patted it's back. The midwife looked impressed.

"That's good Mike, now who's next?" she said, indicating I needed to pass the baby on. By this stage I wasn't really feeling like getting up off the floor and so I threw a perfectly weighted (netball) chest pass across the room to the next Mum.
"Oops I said," looking at the mid wife, with a naughty twinkle in my eye. The mid wife gave me a death stare. The other parents laughed. I felt good.

 

3 comments:

Amy Imms said... 12/20/2008 1:11 pm  

It's ok - a good throw every now and then never hurt anyone.

BSJ-rom said... 12/20/2008 9:33 pm  

Hmmm, mate it's cricket season. Hope your arm wasn't bent...

Astrid said... 12/22/2008 2:07 pm  

funny

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