Birth

Last week at work, amongst topics of conversation ranging from the state of the economy to vaginal flatulence, I was asked a series of questions about birth. So I thought I might do an entry here.

In the autumn of 2006 the Wife woke me up with the words "Guess who's water's broken?" to which I, in my semi-conscious state replied "I don't know... whose?" And at this point I'd like to take the opportunity to break a few myths

Myth 1

People always panic in the films, don't they? Its all "get hot water and plenty of towels!" and people passing out.

I have to say, there was no panic. There were corn flakes, there were some phone calls... the Wife had a bath. No panic. I know that's not as funny as running into walls and bags of clothes bursting open, but I wasn't at all nervous. Its true what they say. Ignorance is bliss. I boiled the kettle for hot water, but only because I wanted a brew. At no point were towels involved.

After an hour or so the Wife's contractions got to the point that we needed to phone the birthing unit. It was all very calm and pleasant, we drove through the middle of the night to the unit and got parked up, dragged the small bag containing the ENTIRE CONTENTS OF THE HOUSE inside, popped the Wife on a birthing ball (for the uninitiated, a massive beach ball you sit on and bounce up and down on) and set in for the wait. It took about ten minutes for me to realise that the birthing room was about the temperature of the surface of the sun. By the time the Boy was born four hours later I was about half the size I was when I went in. A tip - dads, dress for summer regardless of weather conditions.

The Wife bounced up and down on the ball until the labour pain got so bad we put the TENS machine on her. This is like one of those abdominal exercise machines that electrocutes you to a six pack. It did feel a bit like pouring salt in the wound - wiring her up to the national grid, but it seemed to work for short while until the gas and air came in and the good times rolled. Well, at least between contractions. The Wife was steady as a rock, calm and collected, focused on the task at hand. She only offered me violence once when she was gesturing for the gas and air and I misread the situation and handed her the cup of ice chips. They promptly flew through the air as she snarled through gritted teeth; "No motherf****r, THAT!" and stabbed a finger at the gas.

Myth 2

Some people (I'm guessing men here) still claim birth is actually painless.

My arse. It wasn't painless for me, let alone the Missus. She was in so much pain she squeezed my hand tight enough to dislocate my finger.

(I realise at this point I'm about to lose the mother's in the audience, but hear me out on this one)

 Now here's a thing - imagine you're in the birthing unit, your wife is in the throes of labour, you're surrounded by women all of whom have had children. There's a slight iciness when you speak or you're spoken to because, on some level you're being blamed for the pain your wife is in. Like (true story here) when your "mates" tell you to meet them in a certain pub before a Charlton match and you turn up wearing your Charlton top to discover its where all the Millwall fans are. Like that, except without flying barstools and a mounted police officer to rescue you. You are, in short, not particularly welcome. Your wife squeezes your hand and dislocates your finger. You yowl in pain. The midwife looks at you and asks you what's wrong and you find yourself - amongst the blood and screams - saying; "I think I've hurt my finger."

For once I chose the wise path and didn't say anything. Not because I'm brave but because I'm a coward. And regardless, I was watching her go through child birth. I had bigger worries.

Whilst we're talking about the pain, I'd like to dispel one other myth though.

Myth 3

Whilst the Wife was pregnant with the Boy a colleague showed me an article in a women's magazine. It was one of those classy, 60p magazines that have headlines on the front cover like "I Was Sold into Slavery By My Mum" or "My Dog Exploded Doing a Wee". I think it was Vogue. In this article it said that it was; "not unheard of for women to orgasm during child birth."

That is likely in the same way that being struck by an asteroid made of jam is likely.

Moving on...

The Boy was a water birth. The best way to imagine this if you're a prospective dad and a film fan is this; watch the scene in Jaws where Quint gets eaten by the shark. But play it backwards at low speed so it takes about three hours.

 The best thing about a water birth is that as a dad you get a role to play. Aside from giving encouragement (don't, in your exuberance, yell "GIVE IT SOME WELLY!!" or people will judge you), you get given a sieve. Yes. A sieve. This was handed to me with the words, "just in case something pops out" to which I rather naively thought; "I'm never going to fit the baby in this."

No. I was on poo duty. However, it is my pleasure to say that the Wife behaved impeccably. Even when she was completely off her tits on the gas and air. Because the thing is, it only works if you breath a bit of gas and then take it out of your mouth to breath some air. My Wife in her befuddled state couldn't understand what the mid-wives and I were saying when we were trying get it off her. I ended up putting my foot on her shoulder so I could pull it out of her mouth. When she wrestled it back off me (she held my head under the water)* she actually knocked out one of her teeth putting it back in her mouth. Since I'm quick on the uptake, I formed the conclusion she rather wanted it back. After that I didn't argue with her and when the mid-wives tried to get me to do it again I simply replied, in a quavering voice; "But I want my child to have a father!"

Myth 4 

Childbirth is awful right? Wrong.

After all this you may be wondering why you'd want to go through it. I'm not a particularly schmaltzy guy (partly because I don't know what it means) but it really is the most amazing thing in the world. And as a bloke you're pretty much a spectator, so you might as well enjoy it because you can bet your arse your other half won't. I got as involved as I could, checking on his progress, cutting the umbilical cord, dressing him for the first time. The only thing I didn't do was look at the placenta. I saw a picture of one once. It looked a bit like something that you used to see eating small towns in B movies.The Girl was born at home, the Wife only bothered waking me up when it was time to call the mid-wife and by the time the gas and air arrived it was too late for it to work. So the Wife gave birth to the Girl with no pain-medication at all. I have never been so proud of and amazed by anyone as I was that day.  I don't think any experience in life can compare with childbirth, and the moment you hold your kid for the first time. Even if they crap on you. Which they might. And then you get to watch them sleep which is one of the most beautiful experiences life can bestow on you,

Myth 5

You'll never sleep properly again.

Actually, that's not a myth. You won't.




* Its possible I made that up.