Feeling near death bringing forth life
“Help me!” she screamed “I need it now! Please… help!”
The screaming continued. I could just about make out the words amid the gargled noises as my wife thrashed about on the hospital bed. My second son was attempting to make his way into the world. Apparently he was head down, in position. He was ready.
Only there was a sole midwife for the shift and the ward was so busy that they had left us for quite some time. Now things were picking up pace in the absence of much needed support.
Screaming in fear
“Ep! … I! … Dural!” came the calls, her face scrunched up in agony. Shrieks followed by expletives were sounding out like battle cries. It was a lot of noise and a surprising commotion for one prone woman to make. It dawned on me that the ward staff had heard this so many times their ears were immune to this audio outrage. I was actually going to have to get help.
I searched the ward, called for the midwife, asked for assistance. It took forever to track her down. She was calm and that made me calm but that wasn’t alleviating my other half’s pain. In simple terms she explained the issue to me.
The problem was that we were on the ward on the fourth floor. To carry out the epidural procedure, we had to be transferred to the equipped rooms on the second floor. Getting my fair lady onto the transporting chair and off to a bed was a seemingly impossible task. Just then an incomprehensible groan of discomfort came from my wife’s bed. I locked eyes in a forceful plea with the midwife.
A Literal Birthday
There was only one thing for it. The chair was wheeled to the bedside and together we began the struggle. Eventually we managed to get my wife into the seat. Then we were off, and at some pace, I could barely keep up as this experienced health professional whisked the chair through the corridors and into the lift.
As we entered the room with the necessary equipment for pain relief it was clear things were too advanced for that. With herculean effort we got my wife onto the bed and the screaming ratcheted up a notch. This was it. This was what counted. Within a few minutes my second son was pushed and pulled into the world.
“Here you go Dad!” exclaimed the midwife and handled the slippery new-born to me to lift towards his exhausted mother. It was joyful. It was precious. On my birthday too, my second son who’s Chinese name was to be Taili, meaning ‘gift’. I couldn’t have asked for more.
Six Months On
One never knows what to expect with children. In the first few months of Taili’s life he seemed to throw up more milk than we prepared for him. Every time he covered one of us and/or the bedclothes in milk was an unfortunate experience.
Yet once his stomach muscles had strengthened and he could keep the milk down, one thing about him that emerged has been his willingness to smile. He smiles at every opportunity.
Waking up, he smiles. New faces, he smiles. Playing on the carpet, he smiles. I would even say he smiles while drinking his milk these days. In this way he brings joy. As a smiley happy baby he reminds me of the richness of life, that through the difficult days there is always a reason to stay optimistic.
Smile and the World Smiles With You
That his smile makes me smile is a teaching in itself. My other son, now a toddler, presents as much more challenging. Half of it is unintentional. Early onset asthma means his chest reacts badly to any cold or bug which he picks up, and little children pick up bugs all the time. All… the… time… meaning he gets sent home from nursery every other week, disrupting working patterns and straining relations at home.
When he is well in himself can be good for a while, but then this represents the half of his behaviour which he wants to push boundaries. He refuses to brush his teeth until we are furious with him. He screams for the food he didn’t want the five minutes before we end up eating it ourselves. He’ll walk half way to somewhere and then refuse to go any further unless he has a shoulder ride.
On the occasions where he says things like ‘I’m very proud of you Daddy’ and ‘I love you so much’, all that stress and tedium of being a parent is forgotten and this meaningful endeavour feels so much more worthwhile. Which is what it is about really. Focusing on the positives. Parenting is a hard, and sometimes seemingly thankless task. One needs to keep everything in perspective.
Remembering Gratitude
And on the subject of thanks, I come round to celebrating birthdays. For a long time I was uninterested in birthdays. They were just another day, denoting getting another year older. There didn’t seem much point in celebrating getting from 26 to 27 or 28 to 29. However I made a big deal of my 30th, renting a large house in Wales with a hot tub, and gathering a group of friends for a long weekend of walks and merriment.
That was fun. That was something to remember. Next milestone I guess is 35, and yet my birthday will never be the same again. I’ll always share it with my second son. That thunder is well and truly stolen. But you know what? I’ll happily give it to him.
The weekend just past saw my first born reach three years old, and we put a lot of effort into decorating the house and putting on a party for him. He was ill of course, and so didn’t enjoy himself, especially not wanting to be centre of attention. It made me think how it was possibly a waste of time, which in turn made me question why we do celebrate birthdays and that brings me on to my main point.
A Celebration of Life
The third birthday party was captured on phone cameras, and recordings. It is a part of the digital reality that we marked the occasion and celebrated another year in the life of my son. He’ll know when he is older that we put the effort in then. That we did it all so that he would know he was loved.
My children have changed my thinking on marking birthdays. Having witnessed two actual days of birth, I am convinced that it’s a miracle any of us have made it. Following this, effort put into birthdays is never wasted, even if the person who’s birthday it is seems unappreciative or won’t remember it. We must be thankful if they are in good health and remain hopeful if they are not.
When we mark the occasion of someone making it another year further through the life course we are celebrating their presence and the persistence of their being. Through doing so we celebrate being itself. If you remove the cheesiness and awkward moments that so often accompany birthday celebrations, there is something profound underneath it all. There is a connection to other beings who we love, and that is worth getting thrilled about.