Some moments from 52 hour labour (Papa's perspective) #2

Some moments from a 52 hour labour (Papa's perspective) #2

Truth, fear 

There are moments in life where the problem is reality, that one is all too aware of the facts of the matter, and that one is powerless to control them.  An hour after Amelia was born came such a moment. As the wonderful Claire put it, at such times we are all heart; no brain at all.
The birth had gone as smoothly as it could for such a long one. On a handful of paracetamol, my incredible wife had delivered her precious cargo to the world. We were briefly content, attempting to breastfeed and reposing as a family for the first time for a moment. Then of course, the afterbirth needs to come out.

It didn't.

The breastfeeding should have helped.

It didn't.

The injection of oxytocin should have helped.

It didn't.

The midwives' expertise should have been enough.

It wasn't

An hour after the birth, we were told that Victoria simply must go to hospital for a surgical intervention. I watched as an ambulance crew worked with one midwife to strap my now unconscious wife to a stretcher. There seemed to be blood everywhere. One midwife had kept an eye on Amelia and I and kept me busy looking after her, but for a few minutes I was alone, clutching my naked newborn daughter to my chest under a blanket and watching as my tenacious, vivacious wife was carried out the door.

I wept.

I prayed, and I knew God was with me, but counting back the promises in the bible, I knew that not one of them told me Victoria would be OK. He promised to be with me, and that I would be ok as He went through whatever life throws at me alongside me. But I also knew, in a suddenly real way, that Victoria might not be coming back to me.
I could only cling to the facts: the midwives were not too worried, and I was probably reacting out of a state that to call 'tired and emotional' would be utterly to underplay. I should not trust my instinctive fears.

I don't quite know how I got though that moment, looking down at the top of Amelia's head and her tiny hand wrapped around my finger. I only remember praying "not this cup Lord, anything but this", and eventually being OK.



Less than an hour later I heard from the hospital that she was in surgery, out like a light and all was going well. Finally I could join my daughter in her peaceful sleep.

Vanity calling?

Victoria had always wanted a few pictures of the birth; she has a few from her own birth and cherishes them, so I was under strict orders to capture a few salient moments, however inappropriate it felt at the time. I cant tell you how glad I am that I did; those first few shots give me a few concrete places to hang my memories.
Knowing her plan, when we set off to the hospital the first time at 6:00 am, Victoria managed to straighten her hair between contractions.

That took a while.

What a peculiar picture of determination she is.

And how lovely she looks, hair straightened or not!

Naming

You wouldn't think it was that hard, naming a child, other than the draw-jopping terror that in one decision you can ruin a future with comedy initials or a series of awful nicknames. Perhaps that's why it took a couple of days; we really wanted to get it right. My sister-in-law, keen for detailed news, was told weight, length, hair colour and "no name yet." Her alleged response: "What are they playing at, they've had 5 months!" It's true, we had known we were having a daughter for a while. I'm really glad we found out; knowing I was going to have a daughter really helped me bond with D-minor. By the end, we'd narrowed it down to just a few names, each of which we really liked. We just wanted to meet her and see what she looked like. Then things were complicated by the fact she was born on the 23rd April: St George's day and Shakespeare's birthday (Which is incidentally why it's world book night. How cool for a bibliophile to have a daughter for whom to buy books every year!) Should we call her Wilhemina? Georgina? (Georgia had a good chance for half an hour, to be honest. ) How about a Shakespeare character? I liked Cordelia, myself.
In the end, we decided against any new additions. The ultimate call was always going to be Mrs D's, she'd clearly earned the right. At about half past ten, she became Amelia Anne. We hope she likes it; it's quite a responsibility. She's stuck with it for a good long time.

I also wanted it to be shortish. If I'm going to get it tattooed on me somewhere I don't want it to hurt too much!