Part 3: Labour

Modern birthing suites – at least, those at our hospital of choice – are remarkable. Years of shonky hospital dramatisations had led us to expect a dank, sterile room reminiscent of – if not identical to – an operating theatre. But the reality is more like a 4-star hotel room, complete with mini-bar, comfy couches, TV and stereo.

Granted, not many hotels have nitrous oxide on-tap, handy ‘Jesus bars’ near the toilet/shower/bed, a cupboard full of forceps and a hard-wearing, washable floor covering. But nevertheless, I’ve paid good money to stay in worse rooms – and I know some kinky folk who would pay a premium for the extra oddities.

And so it was into such comfort that we were led upon our arrival at Mitcham Private around 3:30-ish. Julie’s contractions had been rapidly increasing in intensity and frequency during the drive from home, and were now at the point where sitting down and grimacing was about her only option.

We had experienced what we had – foolishly, in hindsight – considered to be several ‘false alarms’ in the preceding weeks. Contractions of a kind would start up and fall into a regular pattern, and we would very excitedly begin noting down the regularity and the intensity (‘mild’, ‘uncomfortable’, ‘a bit sore’, etc). These were, of course, merely Braxton-Hicks contractions. Now that Julie was experiencing the real deal, the descriptors most commonly used were ‘agonising’, ‘f---ing painful’ and ‘AAAAGGGGHHHHHHH’.

I will never experience the pain of labour, and for that I’m thankful. At the risk of receiving a serious beating from all my female friends and relatives, it was painful enough watching my beloved experience it.

To Julie’s credit, she bore the agony with a strength I shall admire for years to come. There’s no way to say that without sounding condescending, but there you have it. She demonstrated a goddess-like pain threshold, and has my undying respect.

But after five or six unspeakable hours, with nothing more than a constant supply of nitrous to smooth the worst edges, she was forced to face a new challenge. The pushing had begun.