Apologies. My
pregnancy diaries aren’t strictly chronological. You can just put it down to
the disorderly mind of a creative genius or the product of a generation that
grew up on movies that had numerous flashbacks. So you will just have to go
through this segment in a oh-Sprout-has-been birthed,
oh-now-she-is-back-in-the-womb kinda way. I just write as the creative mood
grabs me. Or as a dim memory pops up, I write about it, lest it fades away.
So
thunder-claps, lightening and some dramatic music, please. We are now back to Yours Truly is 9 months pregnant, she has a
man's pelvis, and everything else is A-ok! My lovely gynaecologist was doling
out instructions by the dozen to us and also praising Worse Half on his “bravery” for
wanting to be part of the labour room antics. But his praise came mixed with
some serious warnings.
"When you
are in the labour room and then the OT, you must be there for moral support.
You can hold her hand, you can talk to her...but No Peeping Down There."
No peeping down
where, we both thought stupidly, before it struck us both at the same time.
"See, he
said, explaining further, "This has happened to me before. Here I was,
delivering the baby and there on the other side, the father was fainting at the
same time. My responsibility is the baby. I can't be delivering the baby and
trying to catch hold of the father at the same time. And if the father is you
know, well-built, big-structured (Hah! finally Worse Half's largeness is referred to
instead of just mine!), then it's a problem. You know once we had to attend to
the father with stitches and he took longer to come to than the mother!"
Worse Half tried to
argue that he was not squeamish about blood and stuff, but that was no go.
"You will
be provided with a steel stool to sit on,” he said, "sterilised, ok, a sterilised
steel stool to sit on. " (lest we doubted that Worse would keep standing
for the whole course of the delivery in fear that there were some untreated
microbes on this magnificent steel stool!)
And then the
final ultimatum.
"If you
peep, he told Worse Half grimly, "I will warn you. I am a fair man. I will warn
you once, twice and third time you are out." Out of the OT, that is.
So that was
that. No arguments, no bending rules. Peeping Toms were strictly prohibited
from the Operation Theatre! It was strictly waist-up viewing !
