What a week it has been indeed.
Whoever says that childbirth is a miracle is fucking joking. There is no divine work going on here. How in the hell did we do it historically – my empathy is with the cave ladies who must have had a nightmare time of it all.
“Wait a minute” I hear you say “childbirth?” – that’s right Mini Mr Six has arrived.
How did it go? it was an epic saga; just like the arrival of Mini Mr Six number one. The current Mrs Six’s waters broke at 4am on Tuesday and 36 hours later Mini Mr Six popped out at 4pm on 24th July. That’s 36 hours of on again/off again labour, which finally ended with a bit of a push from the ‘Jungle Juice’ (Oxytocin) on Wednesday morning to nudge things along. I did my dutiful husbandly part of course – I kept the brews flowing, gave a hand to be used as a stress ball, and played a quick blast of Survivor (you know which tune) when the Jungle Juice started to add some auditory enhancement to the experience.
The current Mrs Six has been admitted, sadly, due to some complications. She is a bit of a local legend on the ward at the minute because Mini Mr Six was a vaginal breach birth, which, I’m told, is a challenge and a rarity indeed.
Mini Ms Six was brilliant and quite entertaining as we stirred her at 5am to be dropped off at Aunty Sam’s – our reserve babysitter assigned for that day. (the current Mrs Six is very organised) When I told her to “be a good girl for Aunty Sam while Daddy takes Mummy to the hospital” she exclaimed “of course Daddy – you go get the baby” as if Mini Mr Six was waiting in a box to be collected at the depot!
She definitely enjoyed meeting her little brother for the very first time:
Hospitals are strange places indeed. They are places of perpetual waiting. Everybody through the whole building is just waiting for something; waiting for a room to become available, waiting for a visit by the consultant, waiting for the arrival of a prescription, waiting for some paperwork to be filed, and waiting for the canteen to open.
Ah, the canteen to open. What the fuck are these canteen opening hours all about? We’d packed a lunch box but after the first 12 hours I’d soon smashed my way through it. It seems though that the canteen doesn’t like to operate at the convenience of the thousands of people in need of it’s services everyday and runs the most ridiculous opening hours ever seen. You can’t get breakfast until 8am (even though shifts start at 7.30am) and you can’t get an evening meal after 7pm (even though that’s when visiting hours start)
It’s my opinion that everything in a place like a hospital outside of treatment should be made as easy a possible – fretting about where my next meal was coming from was just another hassle that could have been easily improved with a bit thought into how the canteens and shops operate on site – and I am certain I am not alone; I’ve seen all the other bleary eyed people wandering the halls, like a scene from ‘The Walking Dead’, raiding the vending machines for a Mars Bar breakfast substitute in the early hours of the morning.
The staff of the Maternity Ward at Stepping Hill are outstanding (With the exception of the Consultant who appears unable to dress himself). I know the hospital holds a bad rep as a result of saddening and unfortunate incidents a few years ago, but our experiences of the staff especially have been great. We are so very grateful for everything about these people – they have outdone themselves at the birth of both our children. Should I ever come into a substantial win on the lottery then they are all getting a significant bonus from me; along with comfier chairs and free Wifi across the wards… those chairs are outrageous and the 3g signal is abysmal! A big thank you Stepping Hill.
Anyway – I’m at home with Little Miss Six thinking of the current Mrs Six and Mini Mr Six in hospital without us. I can’t wait to get them home…