Father's Labour Day

The memories are coming back. It was hard to watch. I think most dads who experience labour leave out a lot of information when they report the incident. You don't want to see someone you love go through the pain of labour, but you want the outcome: a safe, happy family.

The prenatal classes were great, but really, what can a guy do when his significant other is wrything in pain, toning, and basically wanting to go through this on her own? I don't blame her. Would you want someone in your face while you're having a tooth pulled saying "that's great honey, the root is almost loose, just a little longer, keep toning, keep looking around the room, do you want morphine now? How about if I hold your hand?"

Of course the prenatal courses were full of great information, but when it came down to the actual contractions, what could I really do? Just be there I guess. It was about 24 hours of hard labour, and at about 16 hours in, I found myself just sitting beside Jennifer's mom, watching.

It was like sitting ring side at the main event. You don't cheer though, and really, you don't give much sympathy. What's the point? Jennifer was in too deep. She says it felt like she was drunk at a party and people were helping her sober up. She sat in the shower because people told her to. The shower lasted about 5 minutes. Her and I tried the positions we learned in class (one position had her in a deep squat while I held her up). That lasted 5 minutes. One position worked where she leaned on the head of the hospital bed in the up position, (sort of an all fours position). That's when I entered the room and asked if her dad (the baby to be's grandpa) could come in to see her. "NO! I DON'T WANT TO FREAK HIM OUT!", she quickly responded. I told her a friend sent her love. "WHO CARES?" she snapped back.

Earlier that morning, I was sleeping in the delivery room on a chair with a pillow and blanket over me. I think Jenn responded to the morphine she took earlier that night and got sick. It was projectile vomit directed right at me. I couldn't do much except watch it fly. "Missed me", I said. Amanda the doula chuckled. We emptied the room of furniture, and a nurse came in with a bucket and mop, and cleaned it up. Then the labour continued. A few drops of puke hit my blanket, but not enough to give up sleeping in it. Puking is one of the few things Jenn remembers clearly from the ordeal.

It reminded me of The Exorcist. Don't get me wrong, Jennifer looked much more attractive than this as she wrythed in pain. She didn't LOOK like this. I just thought I would use this photo as a symbol of the feeling in the room at times.

I guess I better put in a happy picture to balance this out:

This is how I was imagining the new addition to the family would be like while the events of the previous photo was taking place.

Anyway, it all felt like a bit of a war. Thank God for our two doulas: Amanda and Aleksandra, our unbelievable nurse, Robin, and Debra Millar. Dr. Millar was the cowboy in the white hat at the end of the movie who says "all right round up the wagons, we're heading home". She called the end of the labour, and basically said. "This party is over, time for a C-section".

In minutes after Dr.Millar's call, we had our baby girl. Why 24 hours of hard labour? Who can answer that question? Except that we had no idea of the outcome at the time. Hindsight is 20/20. Jennifer was going for it, and we discussed a "vag birth" as our goal. Looking back, it could only have been done the way we did it. Pain and all.