Ready or not, here I come!

The Big Moment – Part 1

The day we had been waiting almost 9 months for had finally arrived, and like the previous two deliveries, we were not ready.  Lets face it, you can never be ready for the actual moment of your child is born.  It doesn’t matter how many books you buy/read, how many hours you spend on Google or how many pre-natal classes you attend, you will never be ready for the actual time.

painFor some women, contractions / labour can last 24 hours, but I would assume that most women “only” have contractions in average around 10 hours before the action.  This is not easy to comprehend for us men, as we don’t feel pain, but it looks fairly painful.  It would probably be like getting flicked on the testicles every 3-8 minutes, according to my lovely wife!  Not sure if that explains it and not sure how she would know how painful that actually would be.  NOTHING compares to that!

According to her (our) doctor and her chart, her due date said that we still had another two weeks to go, but my wife is always early; 5 weeks early with our daughter and 6 weeks early with our son.  Why this one would come on time is beyond me.

A large proportion of our family, predicted that it’ll be a boy.  And, my so-called physic sister-in-law was adamant that it was going to be a boy, and had actually used spiritual forces and a gold ring to foretell the gender – and, he was going to be born only 1 week early.  My prediction was that she was going to go on or shortly after Easter and that it would be a girl.

Wednesday morning when I was getting ready to leave the house, after the breakfast feeding frenzy of our two kids, my wife said that her stomach was a little bit sore and that she needed to relax.  It was my duty to call in cavalry, my mother-in-law who “luckily” lives nearby.  She came over to the house to lend a hand with the kids while I was at work.

Shortly before lunch, I received a phone call at work from my disstressed mother-in-law, saying that my wife was in pain and she needed an ambulance.  In the background I could hear my wife cursing like “The Exorcists” and asked if I could talk to her.  I quietly explained to her that having a baby during business hours and during the week is not really an option, and she ensured me that she was fine and just needed to rest.  Sorted!

…but no, it wasn’t sorted!

Close to 15.00 (3pm) I received another call from my mother-in-law, who this time was in a frantic panicky stage, screaming “he no good, he go!”.  Who the hell was he and what had happened?  After some translation in my head I understood that it had to be my wife she was talking about.  I briefly spoke to my beloved wife, and she informed me that they had called an ambulance, as her pain was getting stronger.  Oh, and by the way, the water had broken.  What water?  The shower pipe? What?

Then it struck me.  The aquarium glass had broken.  Damn it.  I had just cleaned it.  Thankfully my wife clarified the situation, and it was actually her water that had broken, meaning she was preparing to poop the baby.

My initial reaction was somewhat subdued and I was just wondering where the water had landed, and how easy it would be to clean up.  Instead of asking, I agreed to meet my wife at the maternity hospital.  While having her contractions, water breaking, keeping her in panic mode mother calm and waiting for the ambulance, my wife actually informed me that she had cancelled the horseback riding and gym for the kids!  How on earth did she manage to think of that?

Shortly after, I was driving on my hog (my Vespa scooter) to the hospital, ready to participate in the delivery of our 3rd child.  When I say participate I of course mean lending my hand and arm for physical abuse and my ears would absorb all the negative language.  The man’s role in most deliveries is simple. You need to act as United Nations between two stressed and hostile nations; one side your beloved wife who hurl verbal abuse at the medical staff when they touch her and on the other side the medical team trying to assist my wife.  You need to use all your political skills to negotiate a successfully delivery.

time-fliesWhile waiting, I was nominated the award for “Worst Timing Ever”.  because I had left the office in a rush, and had waited for the ambulance, I never got a chance to go to the toilet to pee.  I Simply had to go and legged down the corridor.  38 seconds later I was back in the war zone.

Minor glitch in the overall plan – the baby was lying in a breeched position, which is not really ideal for giving birth and will often require a C-section..However, despite all the doctors and nurses best efforts to , time was not on our side and my wife was giving birth to our third child.

For you ignorant people out there, a baby is meant to be born head first, so when the nurse says “I see a foot!”, then you know it is NOT the ideal delivery scenario.

…more to follow in Part 2.


  1. I can so appreciate everything you’re saying, from not feeling ready to not quite understanding what your wife was going through to the “what am I supposed to do in the delivery room.” I’m convinced the only thing I was there for was to hold a leg and get ice chips. But man, was I going to get the hell out of those ice chips.

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