As first-time parents, Rob and I signed up for all the classes and info sessions that the hospital offered including Infant CPR and First Aid, tours of the birthing center, pediatrician open houses, and, of course, the obligatory child birth/ lamaze class. We're both normally pretty focused and intense during anything remotely school related, but the 8-hour child birth class just about did us in.
We were interested and engaged through most of the day, but the last 45 minutes of the class, the breathing exercises, proved to be a challenge.
We were totally on board as the nurse explained how breathing patterns with "hee" and "who" sounds could be to help moms relax and focus on something other than pain. It was a long day and we were getting tired and loopy when the nurse suggested we start to change up the breathing with the husbands varying how many hee breaths to who breaths.
When Rob instantly smiled and looked at me with his signature mischief eyes I knew we were in trouble. He leaned over and whispered, "How Many Hees to a Who, that's my favorite Dr. Seuss book." That was it, I lost it in a fit of giggles. As everyone else dutifully practiced their breathing, Rob and I were just trying to regain composure. Then, the nurse doomed us further by suggesting everyone use one one long who breath and the husbands choose how many short hee breaths the wife should use. All the other husbands were saying things like, "okay, honey, 6 hees to a who," or "sweetie, try 4 hees to a who." My darling husband, choking back laughs, whispers, "Lis, 17, yup, 17 hees to a who."
As I snorted and laughed he looked at me innocently and explained that counting 17 hees would be more distracting and relaxing than simply counting 4 or 5. Sigh . . .
We never regained enough composure to truly appreciate the breathing exercises- hopefully, chuckling over How Many Hees to a Who will get us through the worst of the contractions.
We were interested and engaged through most of the day, but the last 45 minutes of the class, the breathing exercises, proved to be a challenge.
We were totally on board as the nurse explained how breathing patterns with "hee" and "who" sounds could be to help moms relax and focus on something other than pain. It was a long day and we were getting tired and loopy when the nurse suggested we start to change up the breathing with the husbands varying how many hee breaths to who breaths.
When Rob instantly smiled and looked at me with his signature mischief eyes I knew we were in trouble. He leaned over and whispered, "How Many Hees to a Who, that's my favorite Dr. Seuss book." That was it, I lost it in a fit of giggles. As everyone else dutifully practiced their breathing, Rob and I were just trying to regain composure. Then, the nurse doomed us further by suggesting everyone use one one long who breath and the husbands choose how many short hee breaths the wife should use. All the other husbands were saying things like, "okay, honey, 6 hees to a who," or "sweetie, try 4 hees to a who." My darling husband, choking back laughs, whispers, "Lis, 17, yup, 17 hees to a who."
As I snorted and laughed he looked at me innocently and explained that counting 17 hees would be more distracting and relaxing than simply counting 4 or 5. Sigh . . .
We never regained enough composure to truly appreciate the breathing exercises- hopefully, chuckling over How Many Hees to a Who will get us through the worst of the contractions.
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