A Life In One Day....
The moment a Smurf-like Evie flopped out into the arms of the midwives was undoubtedly the best of my life so far. The 24 hours that preceded were nothing short of traumatic.
“I think it’s starting” were the words I awoke to late on a Sunday night, the big hand of the clock flirting with the midnight hour. Having listened at NCT classes, I was aware that it could be several hours before we made our way to the hospital.
“Time for a cup of tea” I thought as I trotted downstairs in my dressing gown, content at the fact there would be no work for me in the morning. The kettle had not even reached room temperature, however, and I was being summoned to get the car started. “They’re every 3 minutes and lasting for about a minute” my wife confirmed, the panic in her voice mirroring the panic in my eyes. We headed in; the last time we went anywhere as just a couple.
“You’re about 1cm dilated” stated the midwife. “So nowhere near the magic 4,” I said to my wife, astonished that the dilation in her cervix was only on a par with that of the pupils in my eyes. Rather than send us home, they chose to keep us in the anti-natal ward as my wife’s blood pressure was above the norm.
1am became 5am, and the contractions continued to come thick and fast. I was in full support mode, armed with water spray and a cold flannel. None of my tools, however, seemed to have the desired effect and I felt as useful as the Swiss ball that we’d left on the back seat of the car.
My Birth Story By JOHN PHIPPS