Some moments from 52 hour labour (Papa's perspective) #1

Some moments from a 52 hour labour (Papa's Perspective) #1

(in no particular order)

And relax...

We walked into the maison de naissance, two and a half days into the epic slog, and our hearts lifted. They sang. The hospital we'd been at that morning had been so efficient, so clinical, so medical, that Victoria's labour all but stopped as her heart sank. There was also the fact that after a night of what felt like such hard work, she'd progressed only as far as 4 cm dilated. The maison at Grens was so warm and cosy, so colourful and soft. There were plenty of places for papa to sit when he needed to keep out of the way. (How wonderful that this was one of Victoria's first thoughts!) Pervading all was a soft persistent smell of lavender, one of my favourite and most soothing scents. Kindly, the following morning the midwife dispatched my daughter and I with a little present; a lavender pillow for her cot, so that feels connected and at home, and little woollen hat, knitted by a lady who lives nearby and could never have children, so has knitted one for  every child ever ushered into the world there.

Within a minute, Victoria was immersed in the giant bath, resting her weary head on a blue U-shaped pillow, and instantly, frankly, at home. This was the place she could work.

Never alone

It goes without saying that a 52 hour labour is a difficult thing, for papa and maman both. That Victoria did it is testament to the hands we were in. Two wonderful midwives working seamlessly as team inspired so much confidence. Friends across continents asked for updates infrequently so as not to pester. Two families here in Switzerland, godparents to Tiger, prayed and prayed and prayed through the whole birth with us. We were in God's hands, which were the very real praying hands of our friends. We will both be eternally grateful.

A welcome surprise.

Towards the end, the midwives gave an ultimatum. As much as they wanted to give Victoria the birth she wanted so much for her baby, she was nearing the end of her prodigious personal resources. 49 hours into labour she was still at 7cm. In 2 hours, they were going to have to make a call; we're ready to push now or you're going back to that hospital to get the medical assistance you need to get everyone through safely. 

Victoria felt the pressure, let me tell you. She didn't think she could do it, that they were going to be cutting our daughter out of her. Nor did she think she could make the drive. I told her she could do it, not believing it myself. She found the strength to keep going, and under some incredibly tender and insightful coaching from Claire and Evelynne, she managed to push on. When we checked again at 2:00 am, she was ready to push.

The pushing part was full of shouting. Three of us were urging Victoria on on in two languages (at this stage she was so exhausted she was losing her French: I was even occasionally translating!). Every time it was "One more!" "Don't stop!" Frankly, for all I was shouting at Victoria that she could do it, I was tired of hearing  "one more push." The twelfth time you hear it, you begin to lose faith. The  hundredth, they're just words. So at 2:47 when Claire said "stop stop Victoria, look!" I though she wanted to show her something, some sign of progress in the mirror, I got the surprise of my life! I'd missed seeing what was going on, I was literally holding Victoria up, so I looked over her shoulder and Voila!, all of a sudden, there she was. My daughter. The child I had known for months inside of my wife, pushing on my hand in church services, wriggling when we watched a little TV, was there in front to me, safe in Claire's hands. A peculiar monochrome intrusion in otherwise colourful world. That moment, when the abstract invisible blessing to come became the daughter I will know and love and raise, was indescribable. In all the busyness, in all the shouting, everything stopped. The world stood still. This rapidly pinkening creature captured my heart and I was overwhelmed by reality. Within a moment she was lying on her mother's chest and holding my hand.

#2 to follow...