“There are three versions of any good story” I say to S “your version, my version and the truth”
So welcome to my version of events of when our little O entered the world. It’s a tale of intrigue, excitement, terror and sex. OK, maybe not sex, but didn’t that get you interested like an E L James “novel”? Right, so on to the story.
It started with a kiss…. who would have thought it would have come to this
Ah the dulcet tones of errol brown. Musical like the grunts emanating from Steph as she was about to deliver…. Anyhow our story did of course start with a kiss. Or more like the “when a mummy loves a daddy very much” part of it. But i’m going to fast forward nine months after all that to the 4th August 2011. O’s due date.
The wife and I are never ones to do things by halves so when the purchase of our first house was going through and the completion date of the 4th august was mentioned I thought, yes it is the due date, but our rented property is infested with rats (it actually was and they were inside the roof space and kitchen cavity walls) so we need to be out of here. stress levels – moderate.
So we move into our first family home and my Mum, Dad and Sister got the paint pots out to decorate the box room as O’s nursery and I made a start on what would be Steph and mines bedroom.
Fast forward 4 days…. awkward turtle
So S was four days over and uncomfortable but thankfully her biological delay was of great advantage as our new house was in a state of relative order. Nesting of the highest calibre.
I was at work and I decided that I would put in half a days leave and go and finish painting what was to become our bedroom. I arrived home to an awkward scene – S’s dad in the front room with S’s maternal grandparents and S in early labour. This was the first time S’s grandparents has seen her dad since he divorced her mum. The phrase you are looking for is: awkward turtle.
After ascertaining what the precise situation was and that S’s contractions were about 15-20 mins apart I did what any panicking man would do in this situation. I text my mate.
me: “S’s in labour”
mate: “how far apart are the contractions”
me: “one every 15-20 mins”
mate: “don’t go to the hospital until they are regular and 10 mins apart. there’s no point. they will turn you away”
me: “will i have time to put a second coat on our bedroom ceiling?”
mate: “oh aye pal. definitely”
Before the ladies reading this post completely kick-off, my mate happens to be a colorectal surgeon so knows the crack….. (pun!)
So I got S some paracetamol, asked her grandparents to look after her and then went to paint the bedroom ceiling. S had a bath.
It got to about half four, fiveish and two things occurred – the bedroom ceiling looked amazing and S’s contractions were regular and strong. She was ready for the hospital and in the intervening time S’s mum and co-birthing partner had arrived. Time for operation baby extraction. Bag piled in the car….. along with S’s overnight case. Oh how I love a good mother-in-law joke! (shes not a bag really btw!)
So we arrived at an near-empty maternity ward and our journey to parenthood was about to begin.
Stress levels – increasing
To be continued………
Be sure to tune in next time for the gore, the joy, the casual entonox and morphine induced racism and a father almost physically shitting himself! See part 2 here!