© Sharon Muza

Sometimes, as a childbirth educator, you have a class where everything goes right. You know what I am talking about, right? All your jokes are found humorous by the families in your class. You start on time. You end on time. The technology works like a dream. Everyone participates fully and enjoys all the activities. Participants easily understand everything you say and find all of it both interesting and relevant to them. The questions are spot on. And your answers are fleek (a popular term my teens "taught" me). It just feels great! You are sizzling! I love classes like that. They make me love my job as an independent Lamaze certified childbirth educator that much more. I leave a class that goes just this way with a smile on my face, a spring in my step and a big oxytocin high.

Last Monday's class did not go this way. In fact, it went the complete opposite. Simply nothing worked. Top to bottom, simply nothing! I needed a do-over. And somehow I managed to state this desire out loud along with other thoughts I should have kept to myself.

Let's start at the top. As I was setting up for the second week of class, I asked the cleaning staff who kindly cleans all the offices in the building, when her baby was due. She is not pregnant. Honestly, as a person who works in the field of childbirth, wouldn't you think I would know better? I do know better! I usually never, ever ask this of anyone! Ever! I did on last Monday night.

I stubbed and cut my toe on a wicker storage chest I have in my classroom right before class started. We are a shoes off classroom that is fully carpeted and I was barefoot. I did not know I cut it. I walked all around my carpeted classroom dripping blood everywhere. I sat down at the start of class, with all the families looking at me, looked down near my feet and asked out loud "Where is all this blood coming from?" It was coming from me. I shoved a tissue into the toe of my "classroom slippers" I keep handy and shoved my bleeding foot into them, hoping it would stop bleeding on its own. (It did eventually.) While everyone watched. Of course, the carpet remained stained for the rest of the evening. The carpet that they needed to use to try different positions and do floor work.

I pride myself on quickly learning and using everyone's names frequently in class in order to build connection and community. This was the second week of class. I called "Jessica" by "Jennifer" no less than five times this night alone, before she kindly corrected me. Ouch.

Thirty minutes into class, I brought my fingers up to my neck and touched the collar of my shirt. And felt a tag. I was wearing my shirt not only inside out but backwards too! I announced my surprise out loud to the class. I could not resist the urge to fix it immediately and had to excuse myself to dash into the next door kitchen area and quickly remedy the situation. I was unable to keep facilitating the class until it was fixed.

During an activity on the hormones of labor, after a father said the words "oxytocin is the love cuddle hormone" a few times in his heavy French accent, I commented out loud that I loved the way this sounded with his adorable romantic French accented English. He turned purple.

I was on a roll! I felt like I was watching a train wreck. Except the train wreck was me. And I did not know how to stop it.

© Sharon Muza

After the above events occurred, I really don't have a memory of what happened after that. I somehow managed to finish class and end about ten minutes past the 9 PM end time. I did cover all the material. I did not cry. I did not stop teaching. But throughout the rest of the class, all I wanted to do was immediately go home, get in my pajamas, curl up in bed with my heated mattress pad turned all the way up and binge watch "Nurse Jackie" on Netflix while eating chocolate.

I felt so off after all these stupid events. I never found my groove that night. I never felt confident or comfortable. I felt tense and unnerved and twitchy. Even after 13 years of teaching families and training doulas and childbirth educators, I was humbly reminded that having an off class can and does happen. Making mistakes is totally possible. Wanting the floor to swallow you up in front of your class is not an unreasonable thought. I wanted a do-over.

I do remember apologizing about the quirkiness of the evening before everyone escaped and I had mumbled some comment about how teaching can be like labor, both require flexibility. I did not leave that night feeling good. I felt so bad, that I allowed myself to leave the room a mess and made a promise to come back first thing the next day and straighten it up, which I never do. I need a do-over. I crammed my slightly seeping toe into my shoes and locked up. I was not walking on air, but rather dragging my feet to the car. My toe hurt. I need a do-over. I did not have a smile on my face, but rather a frown and a furrowed brow as I tried not to cry. I was reliving all my stupid, embarrassing errors as I drove home. I thought how it was not fair that I couldn't get a do-over.

When I got home, I shared my horrible evening with my daughters, they chuckled a bit and told me it probably wasn't that bad. It was. I wanted a do-over. I did crawl in bed, watch an episode of Nurse Jackie and possibly eat some chocolate.

The thing about teaching is that you get to do it again. And again. This week's class rolled around and I was ready to go. I pushed the memories of last week's failures aside and started class. And what do you know! I knocked it out of the park! I was sizzling! For the entire 2 1/2 hours! I left that class with a smile on my face, a spring in my step and a big oxytocin high. I got my do-over. And all was right again.

Have you had some childbirth education flops? A class where you feel everything goes wrong? How do you get back on top and feel confident again? Would you like to share some of your humbling moments and advice in our comments section? I know I would find it helpful to know that this happens to others, and I bet other educators would too. Please join in the conversation. And if we ever meet in person, don't forget to ask about my worst moment ever as a childbirth educator. I am not quite ready to post that one on the internet!

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