Saying that the birth of your first child is a stressful event is something of an understatement. Nothing prepares you for the associated stress but then again nothing prepares you for the pure unadulterated joy either.
I was a mess.
I kept referring to the fantastic midwives as “housewives” and to contractions as “orgasms” (no more comment needed). It’s something my long suffering wife hasn’t let me forget.
Well we’re expecting our second child very soon, and earlier this week we went to the hospital for some pre-launch checks. We were sitting in a small packed waiting room, filled with mothers-to-be some with partners, some with family, some on their own.
In the corner of the room was a very pregnant women in her forties, quietly reading a magazine.
Her phone rang and she quickly answered it, walked out of the waiting room into the corridor, and started screaming into the phone (I assume to her absent husband/partner) about the pain of the contractions and how they were now coming in waves.
Everyone in the room was looking at each other with a mixture of surprise and bemusement.
After a few more screams, she quietly returned to the room. Took her seat and resumed quietly reading her magazine.
A few minutes later her phone rang again. It was (I presume) her errant partner, and once again, in between reminding him to “put the mince in the freezer” and “pack the trailer”, she screamed about the contractions, the agony, the speed and waves of pain. This time she didn’t even bother leaving the room.
She calmly ended the call, and resumed thumbing her magazine and quietly sat for another forty minutes before she was called in for her examination.
The atmosphere in the waiting room was unique. Loads of couples trying not to look at each other for fear of erupting in laughter.
It takes all sorts. But don’t worry I’ll be there for the contractions, and the mince is already in the freezer.
It’s a strange world and a strange time, but there’s always humour, no matter where you are.
Murphy's Law 