Daddy cool

WE’D hoped to have our third baby at home after having a relaxing two-hour labour with our second child, Alex, who was born in a birth pool in the kitchen.

But by the time my wife, Julia, was 11 days past her due date, we’d accepted that she’d have to be induced – something that can only safely happen in hospital.

We’d had a false alarm on the due date, when Julia had had strong contractions and we’d called out the community midwives, but everything had stopped. Our midwife warned us that the labour could be very quick once it was established.

We’d spent a hot and relaxing Sunday afternoon planting vegetables with the kids in our allotment before going to a barbecue and bonfire at a neighbour’s. We left early – which was a good job – and I put my two-year-old son to bed at about 8.30 while Julia read to our four-year-old daughter.

I was just sitting down when Julia called down the stairs and said that her waters had broken, but there were no contractions. I started filling the birth pool and called the labour ward, who told us to ring back when contractions started.

Ten minutes later Julia was bent double in the lounge with a massive contraction, so I called the labour ward back to ask for a midwife to come as soon as possible.

Another few minutes went by and there was another huge contraction, then another. “The baby’s coming out now, I can feel it,” Julia said, with panic in her voice.

It’s hard to remember exactly what we said and did after that, but the birth pool was abandoned because we knew we wouldn’t fill it in time. I could see the baby’s head and Julia was shouting for some gas and air.

We’d had a canister of gas and air delivered from the hospital for the birth but neither of us had any idea how to open it or attach the nozzle – the midwife had done all that last time.

I called the labour ward and they tried to give me instructions on how to set up the gas and air, but I couldn’t hear what they were trying to tell me because of the amount of noise she was making and had to hang up in the end without setting it up.

THE phone then rang – it was the midwife, who was hoping for directions to the house.

Julia answered it, but then had to throw the phone to me as another contraction started. The baby’s head was coming out. As she threw the phone she accidentally hung up on Teresa, the midwife.

Unknown to us, Teresa was running up and down the street trying to find the right house as there are no numbers on our street, just house names. She ended up ringing the doorbell, but didn’t want to let herself in in case it was the wrong house.

As she rang the doorbell, the baby’s head was delivered. Julia was screaming to check the baby and make sure the cord wasn’t around his neck, so I quickly checked, but couldn’t see that anything was wrong. She flipped herself over waiting for the next contraction to deliver the baby’s body and the doorbell rang again. Teresa couldn’t hear me shouting “come in”. Eventually, I left Julia to let her in – but in the process the dog shot out of the house. He must have been traumatised and trying to escape, and for what seemed like an age he wouldn’t come back while I shouted and shouted for him.

Teresa didn’t even have time to put on her gloves and got there just in time to catch our baby boy. She put him on to Julia’s chest and I remember thinking that he was a good size.

In fact, William was almost ten and a half pounds – a big, strong, healthy baby boy.

Julia told everyone I delivered him, but I didn’t really because the midwife got there in the nick of time.

It was nice to be so involved in the birth, but to be honest I don’t know what I was thinking at the time because it was just so fast – half an hour from the first contraction to his delivery. I don’t think it was a big deal – I just did what anyone would have done. I can’t believe the children slept through it all. When they woke up the next day and came in to find their new baby brother in the Moses basket, it was magical.