Crystal woke me up at 1am on the dot, and she said, "I'm having some contractions."
"Don't worry, I'm here," I said. We were six days overdue and we'd had a couple of times where we thought the Big Day was here. I didn't think much of it at first.
"Bad ones," she said, to punctuate it.
Oh. "How far apart?"
"About three minutes."
"Holy crap, we need to call the midwives!"
"No, no, I want to see if this is real first."
"Alright, let's move around for a minute." A minute passes, and I see the look on her face. "*Now* let's call the midwives."
Crystal shot me a look that I've learned to interpret as, "fine, have it your way". So I talked to the midwife on call, and when I told her they'd only been going for 20 minutes, she asked to talk to Crystal. She said she'd get ready and we could call back if they went away.
The next contraction was very bad. Well, at least it sounded very bad. I timed the one after, and then I called back to say that it was a minute long, when I heard Crystal shout that she wanted to push.
"Don't push!" I shouted. The midwife said she'd rush out right away, and told Crystal to lie on her left side to try to stop the pushing urge.
The next contraction was terrifying. The midwife wasn't here, and Crystal was shouting that she needed to push. We breathed as well as we could (read: not well) through that one. The next one, her waters burst in a pressurized spray. The midwife called and asked to be let in to the apartment. As I went out the door to get her, Crystal screamed "SHE'S COMING!"
Nine minutes later, Clara was fully out. That's it. It was nine minutes between me and having to catch the baby—one hour, three minutes from start of labor to birth. Crystal showed nothing but courage and grace under fire, and it was our best birth by far...Crystal's recovery has been very easy, comparatively. The midwives were super professional, and are probably VERY good drivers (Portland was, still is, flooded, and finding parking near the apartment in the night is not easy.)
Hope you enjoyed the story.
Oh. "How far apart?"
"About three minutes."
"Holy crap, we need to call the midwives!"
"No, no, I want to see if this is real first."
"Alright, let's move around for a minute." A minute passes, and I see the look on her face. "*Now* let's call the midwives."
Crystal shot me a look that I've learned to interpret as, "fine, have it your way". So I talked to the midwife on call, and when I told her they'd only been going for 20 minutes, she asked to talk to Crystal. She said she'd get ready and we could call back if they went away.
The next contraction was very bad. Well, at least it sounded very bad. I timed the one after, and then I called back to say that it was a minute long, when I heard Crystal shout that she wanted to push.
"Don't push!" I shouted. The midwife said she'd rush out right away, and told Crystal to lie on her left side to try to stop the pushing urge.
The next contraction was terrifying. The midwife wasn't here, and Crystal was shouting that she needed to push. We breathed as well as we could (read: not well) through that one. The next one, her waters burst in a pressurized spray. The midwife called and asked to be let in to the apartment. As I went out the door to get her, Crystal screamed "SHE'S COMING!"
Nine minutes later, Clara was fully out. That's it. It was nine minutes between me and having to catch the baby—one hour, three minutes from start of labor to birth. Crystal showed nothing but courage and grace under fire, and it was our best birth by far...Crystal's recovery has been very easy, comparatively. The midwives were super professional, and are probably VERY good drivers (Portland was, still is, flooded, and finding parking near the apartment in the night is not easy.)
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