Fortunately, men do not teach these classes.

For those of you who don't know, birthing classes teach humans - who have been having babies for thousands of years, by the way - how to have a baby while hyperventilating.

The classes take several weeks and include a number of graphic video presentations that they really should have shown to these people in the class before they got pregnant.

Narrator: "As you can see, Mary here has entered the first stage of labor. She is calm. She is using her breathing exercises and this contraction hardly seems to phase her."

(Close up on a woman with beads of sweat running down her face. A vein in her forehead looks ready to explode.)

Mary: "Ohhhhh this hurts!!! I hate all men! I'm going to kill my husband!! Give me a @#$% EPIDURAL!!!"

These classes also include detailed discussions of all the things that could possibly go wrong. I understand that the reason for this is so that if something goes wrong with your baby, you can handle it. But this also gives those first time parents an image for their nightmares for the next few months.

"If your baby is born with his or her lips on top of his or her head, that is perfectly normal. It will make feeding a little more interesting. But it is all perfectly normal."

These classes also go into all the different positions in which a woman can have a baby. It this were left up to the men, there would be two positions: knocked out and unconscious.

But these classes show how a woman can deliver a baby while squatting, while lying on her side, while hanging from a chandelier or while doing a fancy two-step to "Honky Tonk Moon."

Husbands and wives take these classes together. The ploy the teacher tries to pass off is that the husband is a "coach" in the birthing process. The husband's job is to encourage, support and be something for the wife to grab onto when the pain of a contraction hits.

The truth is the only reason men go to these classes is so the women know where their husbands are and that they are not making a mess in the house.

For the most part, the birthing class is like going back to high school - including the heavy breathing.

Some of the guys in the class are serious students who learn every aspect of the birthing process, know every single breathing style and when the moment of truth arrives, will help their wives deliver a 14-pound kid without any pain and cook an eight-course meal the day the wife comes home from the hospital.

Then there are the guys like me. It's not that we are not supportive, but when put in a classroom setting, we revert back to our immature high school selves.

"Heh, heh, she said 'breast.'" And then the guys cheer for the sperm in the "This is How You Got Here" video.

If a guy taught this class, he would say things like, "Now when the water thingy breaks, put on your waders, 'cuz you're going swimmin', dude."

One of the highlights of the class is a tour of the "Family Birth Center" at the local hospital. This is an exciting adventure because instead of being told about all the bizarre tools and monitors, you actually get to see them.

There is one type of monitor that screws into the top of the baby's scalp while he or she is still inside the woman. These are the same people who tell you that a mom drinking caffeine will mess up a child and they are screwing wires into babies!!

The key part of any birthing room - for a guy, at least - is the television. When we walked into the room, the women looked at the bed and the other surroundings. The guys looked for the remote control.

Since my wife and I are having a boy, I can almost guarantee that my son - who will have baseball in his blood - will be born during the World Series. This is going to be the ultimate test of me as a husband and father.

My wife has already made it more than clear that the TV is not to be turned on. So, I asked one of the nurses if they would be willing to bring in updated scores for expectant fathers.

She said once a father told his wife, "OK honey, we got three hours to get this baby out before kickoff."

I thought that sounded cool. My wife didn't.