See the shirt? This is Steven Gerard!
My middley is 7. Yip, it was 7 years ago yesterday (yes, I'm late) that I gave birth to number 2 son. I'd had pains all day, just one occasionally now and then, but Ma offered to take DP overnight to 'give me a rest' and, as soon as she walked out with him, the pains settled down and I knew I was on for the next. After fish & chips with the DH we set out to the hospital at 7pm.
Our local mat unit has a midwife unit where, if you have no problems you can go and I was due to be there, but there were not enough middies, so it was onto the delivery suite for me. We walked into the waiting room to see a dozen worried eyes looking at me anxiously... no, not expectant fathers (most of them are in the rooms at the bedside) These were couples waiting to be induced who had been there since 7 that morning. This was twelve hours later and, apparently there must have been a rush on that day, because not one of them had been induced. They were none too happy to see me, I can tell you, especially when as one asked me hopefully "Are you here to be induced....?" I had a contraction, grabbed hold of the DH's hand (the least he could do for me was to suffer, too) and gasped out "No, sorry, I think I've just gone to the front of the queue!"
Are you pregnant? Do you need a positive birth story? Call for me. I loved giving birth, the whole magic and miracle of it and I always find it amazing that a female body can give birth to a male baby. It's about as sensible as giving birth to a monkey, if you think about it, which is the sort of thing that gas and air makes you say. I read my way through the contractions, having saved 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' for the occasion specially, and only gave up when I couldn't concentrate. Finally I had to tell DH to bugger off, I wanted to push (He is a proper haemophobe, so no way was he going to stay. It would have been like the old films, like in carry on, with the woman giving birth in the back ground while everybody stands around the prone husband and takes care of him. Didn't feel the need anyway, all I wanted was the Midwife, especially if they've had their own children and know what it feels like to want to poo so badly)
And, at 10.30, there he was. Lovely little Ghandi-esque baby, with the extra bits, and all cuddley. I stayed awake for most of the night while he slept. With DP, it was so I could just lie and look at the baby, with JW I wanted to finish Harry Potter. A day in the hospital and Daddy brought DP to collect his new little brother. Apparently, DP did not want to come in... until he heard JW cry. Then he rushed in, made everybody kiss his little brother and found... Joy Oh Joy!.... A model steamroller called George which he had lusted after for a while... and he was so happy that the nurse who took us out to the car thought that JW was, indeed, called George, until we explained what had happened...
But that's all years ago now. We had to tell the story again yesterday, we had to have the party and the cake (see the turtle cake? I made that) and we had to have the whole wonderful feeling that this handsome and clever little boy is ours. Do we love him? You betcha!