I can recall almost exactly when the screaming started. It began the night before, and I’m sure the whole street could hear. It was at around 9:30pm, in the 78th minute of the Arsenal vs Barcelona Champions League quarter final: my yells of joy, as Van Persie scored a goal of exquisite precision and power, would have awoken the neighbours, I’m sure.
More shouts of excitement followed after another Arsenal goal that would win them the game, beating one of the world’s best footballing teams. What a moment.
More shouts of excitement followed after another Arsenal goal that would win them the game, beating one of the world’s best footballing teams. What a moment.
Shortly before full-time I heard Jas make what I thought were encouraging football-related noises. Looking in her direction, I realised she was on all fours on the floor and moaning in agony.
“What’s up?”
“My belly is sore.”
“Oh. Is it labour?”
“No, it doesn’t feel like labour.”
“My belly is sore.”
“Oh. Is it labour?”
“No, it doesn’t feel like labour.”
I went over and gave her back a rub (thankfully in full view of the exciting final stages of the game).
Jas: “How much longer to go in the game?”
“Eight minutes.”
“Okay. Can you help me get to bed after the game? I’m finding it hard to move.” Such a marvellously considerate wife I have.
“Eight minutes.”
“Okay. Can you help me get to bed after the game? I’m finding it hard to move.” Such a marvellously considerate wife I have.
I was awoken at 1am. “The pain is worse.”
“Oh. More intense?”
“It hurts more, about every ten minutes.”
“Sounds like labour...?”
“No, it doesn’t feel like labour.”
“Oh. More intense?”
“It hurts more, about every ten minutes.”
“Sounds like labour...?”
“No, it doesn’t feel like labour.”
It was labour.
I spent the next few hours pumping up and filling a birth pool in our living room, as well as intermittently holding Jas’ hand; she was slightly pre-occupied as well with ever-intensifying primal surges. Once I had the pool water temperature right, Jas slipped into the water for some pain relief, followed by myself shortly after to provide what little support I could as the natural forces overcame her.
Two midwives and our doula were ever present with their fantastic assistance and encouragement. Jas and I were in the little pool for many hours, in which Jas slowly became exhausted with effort while I basically had a long bath.
Eventually, a little boy was born in our home to the cheering of our assistants. It was a beautiful moment, easily eclipsing the excitement of the night before.
I spent the next few hours pumping up and filling a birth pool in our living room, as well as intermittently holding Jas’ hand; she was slightly pre-occupied as well with ever-intensifying primal surges. Once I had the pool water temperature right, Jas slipped into the water for some pain relief, followed by myself shortly after to provide what little support I could as the natural forces overcame her.
Two midwives and our doula were ever present with their fantastic assistance and encouragement. Jas and I were in the little pool for many hours, in which Jas slowly became exhausted with effort while I basically had a long bath.
Eventually, a little boy was born in our home to the cheering of our assistants. It was a beautiful moment, easily eclipsing the excitement of the night before.
Welcome, Zane.
The next chapter: Raising Zane
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