First of all, I'd like to say a huge big congratulations to Sam and Rick, and a big hello to Ellie, I'm sure you'll hear a lot more about her this issue. Well, we beat them to it by a few days when Little Rebecca Suspect turned up on 13/4/98. Here's my story...

Good Friday was due day. Everyone had said that first babies are always late, everyone had commented on how small Sarah's bump was, everyone told me about how they were 2 weeks late. I was dreading it, the longer I had to wait, the more I worried. I just wanted to have this baby, then I'd have to just get on with it and not have to worry about not being able to cope. So, Good Friday evening, Sarah's stretched out on the sofa, I'm doing the ironing (bloody hardened punk rocker me), Sarah starts having contractions. My heart skipped several beats. Contractions? Isn't that when the baby starts to arrive? Oh my god. Sarah doesn't seem in too much pain, but I start to time them. Ten minutes apart, more or less. More or less is regular enough for me and I start consulting all the pregnancy books we own, when do I need to get the hot water and towels? What about sandwiches? God, how much more ironing is there? The evening dragged on, more contractions "Hey, that's only 7 minutes since the last one! Do you want me to phone the hospital?" We go to bed, I'm still timing. Sarah is still going "Ooooh".

Saturday morning, we're still at home, we're still a family of two.
I don't remember what we did during Saturday. I guess I played football. I remember Saturday evening. Contractions again, Sarah seemed to be in more pain, I was hovering over the phone, "Should we call yet?" The evening wore on, I was timing again, Sarah seemed to be more distressed, although she was coping fine. We went to bed, and it wasn't long before Sarah was on the phone to the hospital. Their advice was to go to bed and call them after an hour to let them know the progress. Sunday morning arrived and we're still at home, and we're still two. We shopped, my sister came round, Sunday seemed normal. I made food and we settled down to watch the Italian football. All of a sudden Sarah decides she's had enough and picked up the phone. It went something like this "I can't stand it any more, I'm coming in!" Oh man, this was it. I was calmer than I always thought I'd be, I remembered to call my Mum and Dad and speak to their machine, I remembered to tape the footy and I remembered the way to the hospital. We got there about 3.15pm, and were shown to a delivery room. Sarah was examined while a woman in the next room screamed. It was the first time I'd seen Sarah look worried. Things were still in the early stages so off we went to the anti-natal ward. And the nightmare began. Now, Sarah doesn't like any fuss, and she definitely didn't want me holding her hand and telling her how well she was doing, but she did want me there (and of course I wanted to be there). There was one other couple on the ward, and the woman was screaming, swearing and creating a real fuss. Sarah decided to have a bath. Back on the ward, Sarah's pain was getting worse and worse, something she was still handling much better than I ever would. I knew it was getting bad when she asked for pain killers. But all I could do was sit there. By this time my sister had been in with some food and drink, I opted for a roll, Sarah threw up! More examinations, things were still on the slow side, but we were getting there.

By midnight we were moved back to the delivery room.
I wasn't coping very well, Sarah had been in so much pain, and all I could do was sit there, in the corner, watching. She was sick, the contractions were hurting and I just wanted to cry. When would this bloody baby arrive? They were worried about the baby, they seemed to think it was becoming distressed, and they wanted to take a blood sample from its head. A doctor came in with what looked like a tool bag, and got out all these aluminium looking tubes and long metal instruments. Sarah was facing me as they took the blood, it hurt her and it was almost too much for me to take, I remember holding my head in my hands and wondering if this nightmare would ever end. There were more examinations, more puke, some of which covered my knee. At 2am they gave Sarah an epidural, that helped a bit, but by that time Sarah was pretty much out of it on gas and air. The time was going so slowly, then they said they needed to take another sample. The tool bag made another appearance.
I couldn't stand to watch, so I went and found a toilet. While I was away Sarah had been asking for me, but her discomfort had been less due to the epidural. Time ticked, but much slower than normal time ticks. Just before 6am and they did another bloody blood test, I didn't leave the room this time, but I did examine every inch of the car park that I could see from the window.

A couple of minutes later a surgeon came in, and I knew something was wrong, I held my breath, somehow I knew what he was going to say. And I wanted him to say it. All I could think of was of the pain Sarah was in, I wanted it to stop.

The baby was becoming distressed and they wanted to do an emergency caesarean section. Yesss! In an hour it would be over. The surgeon explained it all to Sarah, halfway through his speech she turned to me and said "I haven't a clue what he's saying!" He decided to carry on, and then even got her to sign something. He'd already asked me if it was okay. Of course it was okay, just stop that pain you idiot! What I actually said was more along the lines of "What ever is best for Sarah and the baby." Then they all left. I was alone in the delivery room. I picked up Sarah's bag with a trembling hand. I was tired, emotionally drained and hungry. And so far I'd only watched! After a few minutes of standing around like a lemon a nurse came and showed me to a toilet where some protective clothes waited for me. I changed and waited to be let in to the operating theatre. I felt stupid, but I was too worried to care. Eventually I was summoned, so dressed like a reject from ER I was taken into an operating theatre. Sarah smiled at me, a couple of the staff laughed at me (why? They were dressed the same!), and I was given a stool beside Sarah's head. They explained the procedure, I didn't listen. The epidural had been topped up and the operation began. I couldn't see anything apart from a lot of tugging and pulling. Then a nurse started to remove bags of red stuff and pile them in the corner, and I wondered why there seemed to be so many people just hanging around. Then they said I could look. I peered over the screen and there was this baby, all slimy with its chord curled up beside it. I couldn't tell what sex it was, it just seemed so peaceful. A midwife did a clean up job while the surgeons started to put Sarah's abdomen back together. "What is it?" Sarah asked. A girl. It's a girl.

I was so happy because I knew deep down that Sarah had wanted a girl and, if I'm honest so did I. She was wrapped up and given to me. I held this tiny little person, and the tiny little person looked back at me. I knew she couldn't focus or anything, but it looked like she was looking at me and that was good enough. I showed her to Sarah. She was only 5lb 10oz, but that really didn't mean a thing to me, she was here and Sarah's ordeal was over, I was happy. "Have you a name for her?" someone asked. Rebecca. This is Rebecca and despite the fact that her head is rippling, I love her.

After everything was tidied and tied up, I was led out and told to change. After what seemed like an eternity I was escorted back to be with Sarah and Rebecca, while they told me that the problem had been that the chord had been wrapped around Rebecca's neck FOUR times! I was in a daze. They had wrapped little Becs up (yep I had shortened her name already) and being so small she had a temperature problem, so she was dressed in cardigans, gloves, boots and a pink hat. "Oooh, she looks lovely in pink" said one of the midwives. "It's that last time she'll be wearing pink!" Sarah replied defiantly. Then Sarah started to shiver, the shock and blood loss was taking its toll, so they covered her in this 'space' blanket and pumped it full of hot air. I went and phoned my dad, and then we were led up to the ward. I stayed while they got settled and then left them to get some rest.

Once home I called Gaz and Rick.
I was hungry, but much too tired to cook, so I called my mum and asked if she'd feed me. I showered (and that felt good) and headed off for food. I don't really think I coped too well with all that had gone on in the past 16 hours, and I thought, not for the first time, that if it was men who became pregnant and gave birth the human race would have died out centuries ago. I really don't know how women do it. The weaker sex? I don't think so.

So there you have it. I'm sure Rick will mention his new arrival (just once or twice), and I'm sure he handled it all better then me, but there you go. Both Sarah and Beca (as it says on the back of her Saints shirt) are doing fine, and I don't think I'm coping too badly with it all now, although the tears have welled up again as I've recounted this story.

One last thing, if this is now Nappy House, I think SD should stand for Shitty Diapers!