delivery

Sharon the midwife was popping back in at 30min intervals to check on Sal and I suppose I was expecting that so was not waking up. Hey, I could sleep until 4am, right? Wrong. I think it was at a little after 2:30am that I woke up (I think was woken up) as Sal was pushing. She was fully dilated. Already. Sal was pushing. We were on our way.

As well as the IV fluids Sal was getting a drug that could control contractions and it was dialled in to produce contractions that would, all things being well, result in around 90mins of pushing and then the final push. Unfortunately all things were not well. They were not bad, but not all well. The bub was well down but not sitting correctly. Rather it was posterior, which meant it was not coming down as it should and it was producing a lot of pressure on the spine. As things progressed and Sal needed to give long hard pushes that pressure was once again a potential issue. I was amazed at Sal's strength. After god knows how many hours she was exhausted and yet still able to push three times through each contraction.

But things did not seem to be getting better orientation wise, the pain was coming back as the spinal block was dialled down to enable Sal to push with more effect. It was going to be decision time. The doctor who would perform an assisted delivery or a cesarean if it came to that was called to do an examination and to discuss options. Watching this examination take place - though not up close and personal - was the only time I felt very queazy. It was decision time, Sal had the epi block in and the exam was not a "oh, darling, tell me if this is all OK" affair. It was business like. She tried to manually turn the head; no dice. The head was facing the wrong way. The best course of action was an assisted delivery using either a suction cup or forceps. This would be tried a couple of times and if it was not viable then a C-section was the way to go. The epi was in, there would be feeling but no pain. These are the risks, can we proceed? Yes we can.

I was brought some theatre scrubs and Sal was prepared. I'd phoned Jo and she was there with the in-laws. They were in the waiting area and while Sal was prepared for the procedure I went and told them what was going to happen. I paused, choked up just a little, got a hug from Jo and then let them know what was going on. Sal briefly said hi as she was wheeled past. I was about to head into theatre and a baby was minutes away. Then I was called in.

The theatre on the delivery floor is bright and spacious. It is colourful and it had a load of people present. Sal was already on her bed, prepared. There was the doctor who had done the final "make a call" inspection, two midwives, he anaesthetist who had also administered the spinal block and three or four others I did not recognise but who all seemed to be there for a reason and not as an audience.

The doctor who would actually perform the birth gave Sal yet another exam and then we were off (no idea why I say "we". I was sitting on a stool, Sal was doing all the hard yards.) I did as I had been doing fr the past hours. I offered reassurance, helped Sal breath and told her how she was doing a brilliant job and how we were all so proud of her. I also mentioned she was about to become a mum. At the business end the two doctors were at work. I glanced a few times in that direction and while not horrific it was not pleasant. The tools of this trade look rather archaic, as you would expect; neither the head of a baby nor the bits of a woman have changed in, well, effectively they've never changed. So why should the instruments? Surgical steel clangs when it hits surgical trolleys and it also shows up blood and stuff to great effect. I think I'll move on.

We were not at this stage for long but it was not the quick up-and-out I'd sort of expected. The doctor were conferring and I guessed they had not been able to turn the bub head to facilitate a vaginal birth. It was looking like a C-section. I looked at the first of the two docs and we shook heads at each other. Not sure exactly how the conversation went but it was along the lines of "Caesar? Yes. OK, didn't hurt me or my brother."

One or two of the people behind me made a move to prepare the Cesarean kit as the second doc put the agricultural instruments down and, for some reason, tried one final manual turn of the head. Sal pushed, then the doc shouted at the two guys behind me to stop unpacking the C-section kit. The head was out. There was a brief pause, then another contraction and out came the rest of our daughter. She had been helped along, but in the end she came out the official exit, pretty much by herself. Sharon the midwife later told us that this was the closest to a Cesar without being a Cesar she knew about.

The doctors offered her towards me, handed me a pair of scissors and I cut the umbilical cord, something I knew new fathers did but had no expectation of doing. The end of the cord was clamped and the baby, our daughter was handed over to Sal. A nurse grabbed my camera and took a load of pics as Sal lay and I sat looking at our daughter. We chatted a bit, though Sal mostly lay there knackered and I spoke at her. Both of us were emotional and tired but neither of us were choking back tears.

After a short while the baby was taken by a midwife and wrapped in a towel while Sal, who had not escaped entirely unscathed, was attended to. Someone asked if I wanted to take the baby out to Jo and her parents. And I did. I was a bit dazed and confused, stunned maybe. Someone handed me the baby and I simply walked out of the theatre with my daughter, to meet one of her aunts and her only grandparents (editors note: I got through with only three moments of sadness, which I thought was a decent effort.)

Bloody hell. I'm a father. I need to step up. My blog, my rules, so I shall bring this post o an end as I really should get some sleep. Sal was brought out of theatre and the six of us went back to our room to properly meet and greet the new addition. Sal is fine and was knocked about no more than a lot of women. Our daughter is perfect. Her name is Alexander Jo, and yes Jo is after Sal's sis Jo (you should have seen her reaction when we told her!) She was 3.4kg and 51cm long. You will be reading a lot more about her.

Now I'm off to bed.