So how much worse could it possibly be? Having survived all of the pregnancy classes, including the dreaded birthing film with my senses fairly intact, I just couldn’t imagine anything to be afraid of in a class on breastfeeding. After all, it was only a single two hour class. It was about boobs and nipples. Figuring I’d already survived the most horrendous experience involving breasts and nipples any human being could possible have to endure I looked into the loving eyes of my wife and said, “Sure, honey no problem; why I’d be more than happy to go with you”
When we arrived at the hospital the classroom was already filled close to capacity. As I’d anticipated this was the one class the majority of husbands had chosen in order to fulfill the minimum participatory prenatal requirements--“What do you mean non-supportive, I went to that breastfeeding thing didn’t I?”
It was kind of refreshing to be one of many men in class for a change. Yes, boobs and nipples really bring out the men folk. Even the front row seats were filled with smiling dads’-to-be brimming with confidence, secure in their manhood and one hundred percent positive that whatever the breastfeeding class had to offer they were more than up to the challenge.
The evening’s class began innocently enough when a matronly looking woman walked to the front of the classroom, introduced herself, listed an impressive number of credentials qualifying her as a lactation counselor and then asked for a show of hands of anyone who might have already had a baby and engaged in breastfeeding. Not a single feminine hand was raised and you could feel relief sweep across the room--for once in the entire classroom experience the women were as clueless as the men and we were all on equal footing.
Well, it wasn’t long until a spirited debate broke out between a group of Gary Ezzo supporters who quoted chapter and verse of his book, Becoming Baby Wise versus the lactation counselor and her many years of practical experience as both a nurse and a mother. It was like watching some sort of intellectual-cat-fight among the women. Now even though the majority of men didn’t have a clue as to what was actually being discussed it was still a wonderful experience for the guys. I mean come on, a cat fight is still a cat fight even if it is only a heated battle of words and let me tell you this brouhaha was like a cat gang fight.
After almost an hour of watching the women fight tooth and nail about schedule feedings versus demand feedings the class instructor declared a ten minute break while she went to retrieve some visual aids she’d forgotten in her office. As the men gathered in the sanctuary of the restroom everyone started talking about the proceedings of the evening so far.
“Man, they were really going at it!”
“Dude, I’ve never seen a cat fight anything like that. Is it just me or was any one else getting hot watching it?”
“I never even knew the Bible talked about breastfeeding, did you?”
“Well I think I might have read something about it in that Song of Solomon book but I’m not sure.”
It was just about the time we all decided to rejoin our wives when someone finally asked the question; “Do you think there’ll be a movie?”
A silence fell upon the group and tentative glances were exchanged as each man waited for someone other than himself to venture a guess. Finally a young man shrugged his shoulders and said, “They gotta have some way of showing em how it’s done don’t they?”
“Come on, they just aren’t gonna show women flopping their boobs out and breastfeeding babies in a classroom full of guys and girls.”
“Well, how else are they gonna show em how to do it?”
“She did say she was going back to her office for visual aids.” I said. “It’s probably just going to be the infant dolls again.”
By the time we all returned to the classroom with our cups of coffee and Coca-Colas the lactation counselor was standing in her spot at the front of the room. On the table next to her was a medium sized cardboard box with what looked like an Elmo doll sitting up inside of it. After the exchange of a few confused and questioning glances, shoulders were shrugged and each of us sat down next to our wives and waited to see what unfolded next.