A telling morning

Instead of preparing for our child by taking a five week childbirth class, covering all things baby, John and I opted for the Saturday morning "express" session. The word 'express' was much more enticing than five weeks long.

I feel like being mormon gives you a one up on everyone else preparing for a kid. Maybe that's the naive in me, but I've been around plenty of babies, and I feel like I have some sort of idea of what I'm getting myself into. Of course, when reality hits me and I have a child in my arms, I'm sure I'll realize I know next to nothing. But as for now, I like to pretend I have some sort of clue when it comes to taking care of a child.

And please, hold the, "just you wait" responses. I get it, I haven't a clue. But I like to defy the odds, that was made very apparent today...multiple times.

That's beside the point, and truthfully, I'm glad we went because I felt like I learned a thing or two. However, the highlight of the morning happened to occur while on the hospital tour. John was seemingly pretty optimistic about the whole labor thing, feeling pretty great about it all. That was, until we were on our way back to the classroom and suddenly John stopped, dead in his tracks, to what we thought was the sound of a child crying, until we suddenly realized, it was no baby, it was the sound of a woman in room 2204 screaming at the top of her lungs to "GET THIS THING OUT OF ME!" followed by loud moans and groans and gnashing of teeth. He was pretty quite about it all after that.

I on the other hand couldn't help but laugh as this all panned out. Not that she was in pain, because let me tell you, it sounded AWFUL, awful, awful, awful, but more so how real it all seemed after that. And I've since decided, when it comes to going into labor, I have a feeling I'll be the one calming John down, breathing in and out with him, while holding his hand as he sits in the passengers seat as I drive us to the hospital.

Won't that be a story to tell.