My First Baby

Late one evening Dawn (my wife) and I were sorting through the spare room selecting seldom used items that I would move to storage later that night. We had about a week before our new baby was to arrive. We had been living with my father for about a year at this point. I had previously gone financially belly up during the telecom crash of 2001 and spent two years in a job that paid about half of what I had previously made. When we first found out the baby was coming we had ran out of money so we moved in with Dad temporarily in order to pay for midwife services and a natural birth at the local birth center.

As I worked, slowly unloading the closet, Dawn pointed at a box of old records and asked “Do we really need these?”

I stared blankly at the box thinking to myself that the layer of dirt atop the mound of 45 rpm records could probably support plant life and I replied, “No but they have sentimental value.”

Dawn leaned over, despite her now cartoonish tummy, and she attempted to lift another box in order to reveal the treasure within and suddenly let out a groan, Oooohhhhhhhff!” Then she looked me in the eye with a laser focus and said, “We are not doing this tonight.”

“What do you mean?” I queried.

“This!” Dawn exclaimed, “All this, it’s not going to happen!”

“Why not?” I asked once again, with a puzzled expression.

“The baby is coming.” Dawn replied, no longer in pain.

At this point I was pretty rattled but everything was OK.  I knew what to do. I had been educated and I had practiced the steps in my head many times. I must: Call the midwife, keep track of contractions, and pack a bag.

“Robert please start a bath for me; it will help me relax, and warm up a baked potato; if the labor is long I want to have energy,” Dawn requested, as she dialed the midwifes pager.

“Right away!” I replied, and I left her straight away to start the bath. Then, I headed to the kitchen to prepare the potato. Dawn had already called the midwife and I thought to myself, great one less thing for me to do.

I had heated the potato and passed by Dad while leaving the kitchen, he asked “What’s going on?”

“We are having a baby”, I replied. Dad seemed unmoved as I zipped by.

Neither Dawn nor I were in much hurry since we had been told that first time deliveries always take many hours. I went back to the kitchen picked up the hot potato and delivered it triumphantly to my loving wife. She took one look at the tuber covered with cheese and sour cream and stated, “There is no way I can eat that! Take it away!”

I took the potato back to the kitchen and ran back to my lovely bride. I was a bit nervous at this point but tried my best to mask it. “Let’s get you into that bath,” I said calmly.

    Before I could move her, she once again let out a long moan, “Oooooooooooohhhhhph!”
    After the pain passed, we made our way to the bath. We finally got her into the bath, and Dawn reminded me that I needed to pack a bag. I ran around the house collecting things for the bag when the midwife returned our call and asked to speak to Dawn. I handed Dawn the phone. “How far apart are the contractions?” Dawn asked me from inside the bathtub.
    “How should I know?” I asked, “I haven’t been here for two in a row yet!”  
“Oooooooooooohhhhhph!” Dawn strained again.

At this point I was handed the phone and the ensuing conversation went as follows. “Do you have your kit?” asked the midwife.

“What kit?” I replied.

“Your home birth kit,” volleyed the voice on the other end.

“Who is having a home birth?” I asked.

“You are” she replied.

“Nobody ever said anything about a kit or any home birth stuff –at all—!” I protested.

“It’s going to happen, the baby is coming” she said just as calmly as if she had asked someone to pass the salt.

“OK, what do I need to do?” I asked.

“Put your shower curtain on top of your mattress but under the sheets. I will be there shortly,” she said.

“We have sliding glass doors,” I rebutted.

“That won’t work,” she stated. “Try to find something to protect the mattress.”

“OK, got it, protect the mattress!” I replied. Then, I ran for some duct tape and extra large tall leaf and grass bags.

At this point I wondered why I wasn’t simply instructed to boil water like in the movies. Although, I had never confirmed it to be fact, I suspected the purpose of that maneuver was to get a person (who would otherwise be in the way) busy to do something away from the real work. Since I was the only one there to do the work; I was not allowed the luxury of relaxing in the kitchen while water boiled.

When I passed by Dad for about the fourth time holding the leaf bags and duct tape he inquired, “What’s going on?”

“We are having a baby!” I exclaimed.

“Here? Didn’t you plan to do that at the birth center?” Dad calmly asked while he leaned restfully in his recliner and slowly puffed on his pipe.

“Yes Dad that was the plan!” I snorted, obviously rattled at this point.

“Do you have a backup plan?” he asked, un-phased by my crazed look.

I held up the roll of duct tape in one hand and the bail of leaf bags in the other and strangled them above my head and growled, “This is it Dad, – this – is– it!”

“Oh man,” he replied in a concerned yet relaxed way. Then, he settled back further into his chair like he was a balloon and someone had let a little bit of air out of him. After that, he went back to whatever he was watching on the television and slowly puffed his pipe.

There is much more to the story of that joyous night but I will save that for another time. We all made it through OK. We even had another baby at home since then. It seemed to be a relatively stress-free birth the second time. I suppose it was so much better because I learned one very important thing that night. A person can make all the plans they want, but the baby doesn’t follow any plan. She will come, when –she– is ready.