Seeing as how I’ve never wanted to be pregnant I hadn’t really expected to end up in a birthing class of all places.
I’m nervous as I walk into the building with Nele at my side. It’s a yoga studio, five blue mats for five expectant couples are laid out on the floor. No chairs in sight. I’m not looking forward to two hours sitting on the floor and I’m not even pregnant!
Our midwife greets us at the door, tells us we’re the first to arrive. Nele heads for the bathroom while I make a beeline for the cushions piled up by the wall. Three look comfortable – the rest not so much. I can’t in good conscience make a pregnant woman be even more uncomfortable so I take a plush cushion for Nele and a normal one for myself.
The next couple arrive, a heavily pregnant woman and a man. He takes the last comfy cushion and I judge him quietly. If I was in the UK maybe I’d try to joke about it, to gently make the point that someone carrying a baby might like a bit of extra cushioning, but we’re in Belgium and my Dutch is basic so I say nothing at all.
The other couples trickle in, we smile at each other awkwardly when eye contact is made.
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