It’s official: I’ve entered the Uncomfortable Stage of pregnancy. After breezing through the first and second trimesters with (nearly) nary a whimper, the third trimester dawned with a triumverate of complaints: my back hurts, my ribs hurt, and I have to remain in a locked and upright position for two hours after a meal or else be destined to taste it all again, if you know what I mean.

At work, the staying-upright part is pretty easy, mostly due to the fact that no one has yet installed the hammock I’ve been requesting for years only half-jokingly, but the other two ailments—the back and rib pain—are causing me quite a bit of trouble.
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My mom asked last night if we had signed up for our childbirth classes yet. “We don’t need that crap,” I said, “and especially not for two hundred dollars.” “Two hundred dollars?!” she said. “Why, in my day…” and thus began another walk down memory lane that ended with my being born, my mom saying, “Look! It’s a real baby!” and my dad saying, “Huh? Uh-huh. Lots of hair.” I don’t remember what I said but I imagine there were histrionics.

Truth be told, whether or not I would take a childbirth class was never about the money. (Although don’t you find it’s getting increasingly easy to fall back on the “it’s too expensive” excuse for anything and everything in this age of crashing markets and an economy receding faster than Michael Bolton’s hairline? Simply substitute “I don’t want to” with “I can’t afford it” and voila, you are excused!) What it really comes down to, though, is that I think childbirth classes would be, for us, a waste of time.
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As youngsters, college students, and workforce employees, we often look for mentors—strong, successful colleagues or higher-ups (who may or may not be women) that not only serve as up-on-a-pedestal role models but as down-to-earth partners who, if we’re lucky, actively participate in our own development into strong and successful adults. We admire these people for their achievements, wonder how they do it all, and then (if we know what’s good for us) dare ask the questions “How do you do it all?” and “How can I do it all too?” If we’re lucky, they take us under a wing and share their secrets.
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Distracted. Forgetful. Absentminded. Scattered. Careless. Long before you start losing your waistline and right around the time you start losing your lunch, one of the symptoms of pregnancy can feel a lot like losing your mind. Chalk it up to hormones or fatigue or simply the all-consuming all-baby-all-the-time fixation on all things gestational (which I’m inclined to blame on biological instinct), but it’s no doubt that the new kid in town—your baby—is taking up a fair amount of mental real estate, space that was previously devoted to things like making important meetings, meeting important deadlines, and remembering to brush your teeth before leaving the house.

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