The Baby Boy in the Bubble

Each day passed and each day no sign of baby No2 coming out. And then, just after supper on Thursday night (1st Nov) I was washing the dishes and Cat said to me she thought things were starting. It was as casual and low key as that. The contractions were about 3 minutes apart but very mild so the hospital told us on the phone to wait at home. So I returned to the washing only for Cat to say, erm, can we hurry up now?
Watford General has two floors for maternity. The Alexander Birthing Centre and the main maternity dept. The ABC is a home-from-home unit, where everything is calm and quiet and chilled. So chilled you could be forgiven for thinking it was a branch of Starbucks. After initial examination and with Cat confirmed as being 3-4 cm dilated, she checked the notes and said we had to go upstairs to the main unit since the doctors notes recommended a drip after the birth and the ABC do not do ANY medical intervention. Reluctantly we staggered upstairs, stopping every 3 minutes as Cat held on and puffed away as the contractions started to come in full force.
The main ward was actually again quite chilled and relaxed. Night time obviously suits the labour ward as it is free from visitors and admin staff. We had a nice delivery room and a very nice midwife who stayed with us the entire duration. Cat huffed and breathed and yelled a little, while I, shame to admit, fell asleep in the chair, every so often coming to and uttering a few ‘well done Cat, breathe’ before nodding off again. Next thing I knew, Cat said, can you get the midwife (she was not actually in the room most of the time and just left Cat to get on with things). Once the midwife arrived she examined Cat and then things rushed very fast indeed.
The midwife, Esther, said to me, look, you can see the water has not broken and it is pushing out. And yes, out of Cat came an oblong pink water balloon. I said, is that the head? The midwife poked it and said looks like baby will be delivered in it’s waters, ooh look, there is the head, get ready, she said, why I said, but before I could finish, out shot our baby like a slippery cannon ball.
The midwife held baby aloft, still in his comfort bubble. She didn’t so much burst it as peel it and suddenly, there he was. She also noted that his umbilical cord was around his neck – but she deftly unhooked it and there it was, the first scream. Time, 3:50am on November 2nd, 2007.
Immediately, Cat held out her arms and kissed and hugged him. In response, our baby son immediately stopped crying and started looking around, quite fascinated with his new life. Within minutes, Cat put him to breast, aware that before, a very long delay with Aimee could have been the reason for her breast feeding troubles. But there was nothing to worry, he suckled like a pro! In fact he won’t stop.
The whole labour took about 6 hours from admittance to the ward. It was so much different to our experience with Aimee. And everything felt natural and straight-forward. Cat suffered a few tiny tears and a tiny blood loss. Of course, nothing compared to the trauma of last time. I was awe struck at how tiny a newborn baby is. I mean REALLY tiny. I am so used to Aimee now that holding a newborn again has come as quite a shock.
So now, we’re at home adjusting to life with a new baby. Aimee is interested more in playing and running and being a toddler on speed, but she has mentioned her ‘di-di’ several times and seems fascinated whenever Cat comes down with him. And we need to find a name, since it is very impersonal to write about our baby No2 or the boy baby. We could call him poo bottom, since all he seems to do is poo – all the time, constantly. I blame Cat’s over-productive milk supply.
So, as a tired but very happy father retires to bed, I would like to say thanks and blessings that we have a wonderful, beautiful new child in our lives.