A final touch of class

Thursday. One last class...

Only this time it was a little different, as this was a private physio class about the body and labour, as opposed to a general horse-piddle run class which covered a little of everything. Mistress P had already attended one of the physio classes but this time it was for partners as well.

So what does a physio birthing class entail? Seems it mostly about pain, and how to manage it, in the labour hours.

And the best way to teach about pain? Well, get the students to experience it of course.

Apparently in the previous class the teach had gone around and pinched people hard to see how they react. As clearly none had punched her lights out in response, she was back again this week to tell us that Mistress P was a shoulder tenser. As in, she pulled her shoulders in and tensed up her body. Apparently this tension is a no-no.

This time, instead of a little pinchy-pinchy, she asked the class to squat - like they were about to take a dump from a foot off the ground. Sounds easy peasy, but when you stay in that position for more than 20 seconds it starts to hurt, and muscles start to proclaim "enough" rather loudly. She kept us all there for 45seconds the first time in an effort to see how we all coped. Including the unsuspecting partners...

The girls had already learnt about "de-tensing" (long, loose fingers; slack jaw; shoulders down) and moving hips etc around in a big circle, so they all went a bit floppy and started some sort of whirling dervish hip gyrations. In the background was music playing, and this distraction seemed to help the girls handle the discomfort immensely. (For AB, though, this distraction wasnt from the pain, but from his pain management, and hence all he could think of was "bloody heck" and "this muscle quivering's gunna make me wet my pants", which was clearly not the desired aim.) The squatting and discomfort was done a time or too more, and it aint easy, no matter how often AB tried to picture Sgt Barnes (from Platoon) 3 inches from is face screaming "Take the pain!!". (Guess you gotta see the movie...)

The reason for partners was not just to show them that pooping the pinapple was gunna be hard (constipated Freddy could tell you that), but also to show how they could help out. This consisted not only of the best ways to massage and coach, but also how they could help with various positions for mum-to-be to get into when having contractions. Mistress P liked the "sit on a fit ball, arms across the back of a chair" best, but there were a couple of others that have gone into the preggas play book. Seems partner's best bet is just to run around, headless chook like, and claim a ball, a chair, and some pillows the instant they arrive at the horse-piddle ("Take your own pillows" they said; err... Isnt a horse-piddle full of beds - and ipsofacto, one might expect, pillows?), and then follow orders.

There was also the back massage to learn - best to get the basics down pat now, rather than when mum-to-be is screaming "not there you ^%*&wit, DOWN THHHEEERE!!!" (errr.... yes dear...). And even a little coaching on the encouraging talk to give mum (e.g., "You're really doing well love"; "You're a champion"; "almost there - you are totally amazing,...", rather than "Shizenhausen - that must hurt like a bastard babe!!"

All these tips were esssentially coping mechanisms so mum just doesnt go into a complete panic at the first onset of a contraction.

"And why not panic?" one might logically ask.

Seems a leap into fight or flight territory, and hence the big adrenalin rush, is actually not a great help when giving birth. Cos rather than relaxing the muscles and letting things flow as they should, the tension causes things to shut down and wait... much as they probably should if you're in the middle of pooping out an heir on the African plain, a hungry lip-licking tiger appears and a quicky evacuation becomes the order of the day...

The final lesson was more for mum, and involved lots of use of the word "stool". It took a moment or two for AB to realise this wasn't polite chat about sitting on a backless chair in a bar, but instead about how you pinch out Mr Hankey.

The technique is called "brace and bulge", and is apparently the way to do a big poo plus doubles as a good way to squeeze out a kiddie. Seems you place hands on the abdomen to "brace" it as you tighten the abbada-dabba muslces, meanwhile relaxing the sphincter area and letting it "bulge", allowing everything to flow out as nature intended. Sounds easy, in a "pat your tummy while rubing your head" kinda way. Bet it isnt. (But practising it on the couch as I write is leading to some considerable urge play the backdoor bugle.)

The session ended with some nice tips on driving to the horse-piddle. This again was as much for the partner as for mum-to-be. Seems dad should NOT bag up the tyres, run red lights, weave through traffic or use the footpath (...bugger...) as all this will do is get mums adrenaline pumping and the car impounded under Bracksy's anti-hoon rules.

Instead, an "as normal as possible" drive along a preplanned route (check), with mum-to-be relaxing shoulders, jaw and hands, eyes closed and thinking calm thoughts, and taxi-driver dad offering the odd "we're just near luna park, not long now love". (Maybe we should just get a talking GPS? With non-American voice option...)

"Get those shoulders down Mistress P."

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