By Emily Exton
Updated April 06, 2011 at 02:20 PM EDT
Miranda Penn Turin/Bravo

Thanks to the world of reality TV, America’s children now have actual proof of their parents making fools of themselves before they were born. For the children born from Bravo’s newest voyeuristic experiment, Pregnant in Heels, it’s a chance to see just how ridiculous their high maintenance moms were leading up to their birth, as the expectant mothers stumbled through and paid (large sums of money) for the services of maternity concierge Rosie Pope. The self-described pregnancy guru helps new parents prepare for their children by acclimating them to the world of strollers, breast pumps, and projectile pooping. Rosie prefaced the show with the observation “women are bitchy anyway,” which is a severe understatement when considering the overly hormonal clients featured in last night’s premiere episode.

Sarah and Jon are affluent Tribeca residents who desperately hoped their enviable life wouldn’t be tarnished by a (gasp) ugly baby. The successful couple felt a child shouldn’t require them to change their lifestyle, and firmly told Rosie they didn’t plan to dote on their little sucker just because he or she spent nine months holed up inside mommy’s tummy. You’re not special! Daddy made it to high level one on Angry Birds today. Don’t flatter yourself.

I’m not sure if it was the fact that Sarah hadn’t bought one baby item in anticipation of her birth or that she was referring to her unborn child as a “life force sucking parasite,” but either way, Rosie deemed the couple in need of a serious psychological breakthrough. Her decision to refer them to a doctor was met with opposition at first (don’t disturb the hormonal lady) but soon revealed itself to be helpful to the anxiety-ridden couple. Rosie’s magic actually seemed to work. Like Patti Stanger’s success stories on Millionaire Matchmaker, the guru took a clueless couple and managed to get them physically and emotionally baby ready by outfitting a proper nursery (with limited cutesy stuff) and helping to bring out Sarah’s maternal side, sans baby talk.

Meanwhile, Rosie’s second clients, Samantha and Mitch Jacobs, are proof that despite what anyone says about this economy, self-absorbed people will pay anything to have their life choices validated. Name dropping is big with these two — they hang with Mike (Bloomberg) and Tom (Brokaw) on the regular — which explains why they agonized over what to call their son. But don’t blame their behavior on parental naiveté. The Jacobs already have two children, whose names (Ruby and Ella) they apparently regret to this day (they’re one Miles or Louis away from a jazz trio). Start paying for those therapy bills now, baby one and two. Mommy and Daddy are spending thousands of dollars on your little brother from inside the womb, so he can become the “marquee” name of the Jacobs clan and make a run for office one day.

I can be indecisive, but heck, I didn’t think it was this hard to name a child. Why not go with something in the family? Your grandmother’s name, your first grade teacher’s, or even the name of your favorite television character? After establishing strict guidelines, Rosie had given the Jacobs a panel of experts and a focus group to discuss their final choices. Among them: Bode, Asher, and Holden. While they couldn’t stomach anything that began with a J, R, or E, referred to decorative items, or ended in an S, they had no problem choosing monikers that call to mind the drunk Olympic skier, eternal college partier, or iconic literary misanthrope. In the end, the couple renounced everyone’s time and effort by going with their own choice, Bowen Asher, which sounds like a preppy attackman on a D-1 lacrosse team (or some kind of new, uncharted skin disease). Happy trails, baby Bowen. Now get started on your presidential campaign and make sure that veep you’re eyeing isn’t named Porter or Theodore.

Yes, Rosie appears to be good at her job, and yes, she pleases her clients, but there’s only so many hormones one can take in an hour-long show (and isn’t that what The Real Housewives is for?). Is there a real demand for an upscale pregnancy concierge, or does Rosie simply cater to privileged, frazzled New Yorkers who don’t have time to read a few chapters of What To Expect When You’re Expecting?

Did you watch Pregnant in Heels? Has Bravo struck gold again, or should this one take a time out?