The 1993-94 season was a fantastic time for Hog fans. The new Bud Walton Arena opened that season, President Clinton was in office and would occasionally come to town for a game, and the Razorbacks were consistently very highly ranked.
I was pregnant with Boo during that time. I started childbirth classes that spring, on Monday nights at the local hospital education annex. I went with two of my girlfriends, Sherri and Ramona, who were also Hog fans.
The meeting after the Final Four had been determined, one of the dads in the class asked if the Razorbacks were to make it to the National Championship game (the following Monday night), would the class be rescheduled for another night? The dozen or so dads were all very disappointed when they were told that the class would not be able to be rescheduled because there were no available rooms/times. The class would go on, regardless.
The following weekend, Arkansas beat Arizona and went on to play Duke for the National Championship. I don't think that Sherri, Ramona, and I even discussed what we would do. We just skipped class and stayed home to watch the game. (Side note: my brother, who had just moved to town and was living with me, watched the game with his pregnant sister and her two friends. Probably his lamest sports spectator moment of all time!)
Arkansas won the game, celebrations erupted all over town, and we Hog fans had one of our best weeks ever!
The next Monday, the three of us girls went to childbirth classes, looked around at all of the married couples, and one of us said, "So, how many people were actually here last week?"
All of the wives glared at us, and all of the dads had this look like "Oh, boy. They really stepped in it this time!"
One woman spoke up. "Everyone was here except for you."
We probably should have felt bad. About skipping class. About giving the impression that a healthy birth took a back seat to basketball. About causing marital discord between all of the couples there. Should have, but didn't.
Skip ahead a few months to when I was in labor. It was 3:00 in the morning and the doctor was on the phone with me trying to determine if I should go to the hospital. He asked a few things, I was clearly clueless, and so he asked if I had gone to childbirth classes and did they discuss false labor.
"Well, I did take the childbirth classes, but I skipped the night they covered false labor. It was the night we played Duke for the National Championship!"
The doctor perked up and said, "Oh! Okay. Let's just get you on in to the hospital to get you checked out!"
He totally got it. Awesome.
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