Baby on Board

And Breathe

I haven't been on the receiving end of a stern glare from a teacher in almost twenty years but as Lottie and I stumble through the first half of our antenatal class, the hippy dippy instructor hadn't stopped sending me evil glances and tuts. In my defence, I'd been a model student right up until the woman started talking about silent births and mindfulness and how having an epidural would cause defects in the baby. After that, I argued black and blue with the woman over everything to the point that Lottie and I were on the verge of being booted from the class. 

This wouldn't have been a terrible outcome. I've already decided that we're going to look for a new class, where the instructor isn't some whack job, and the sooner we find one, the better. Lottie only found this class because her employee, Lauren, recommended it. What we both failed to realise is, of course, that someone like Lauren would fit in a treat here whereas Lottie and I would stand out like sore thumbs. 

Anyway, we were a good few weeks ahead of the game when it comes to antenatal classes. The NHS say to start attending around ten weeks before the baby is due and with Lottie only being twenty-five weeks along in her pregnancy, we had a good five more weeks to find a class that could a) put up with us, and b) not say stupid stuff like 'breathing is not essential.'

"If you feel like you need to breathe," the Woodstock throwback bellows from the front of the class. "Breathe whenever you want."

I roll my eyes and lean closer to Lottie. "That's is, she's cooked in the head," I whisper in her ear. "You breath in before a contraction and breath out during the contraction. It's all about re-lax."

Lottie, who was sitting between my outstretched legs, turned and gave me a bemused smile, shaking her head to tell me that she didn't understand what I meant. I explained that it's a technique, where you think of the word relax, breathing in on the 're' and out on the 'lax.' Giggling at how serious I was taking all this, despite Nut Job Nelly at the front of the class, Lottie planted a kiss on my lips, throwing all her passion into it until it was almost indecent. 

"Ahem," Nut Job Nelly coughed from the front of the class, aiming to get our attention. Instead, she got everyone else's as Lottie and I continued our make out session. "That is it! Get out of my class!"

Not needing to be told twice, I jumped onto my feet as if my arse was on fire and quickly helped Lottie get up. In the last week, Charlotte had been finding it ever more difficult to stand up, not that there was any difference to how she was the week before. I mean that in the sense that she's looked exactly the same since she was sixteen weeks pregnant. The woman's hardly grown outwards or sideways, despite what she ways otherwise. Still, she was milking this whole pregnancy for what it's worth. She'll probably be waddling out of the room, given half the chance.   

"I cannot believe you got us kicked out of our antenatal class," Lottie giggled as she wrapped her arm around my waist and led us out onto the London street. When I wiggled my fingers on her hip, Lottie let out a belly deep laugh and jumped away from me, wagging a finger in my face. "You know I hate being tickled, Isaac."