How I became a Dad

On Friday 16th of October at 05:00 Kate's waters broke. It began one of the most incredible and emotional 46.5 hours awake any person can experience. Nothing will be the same again but then nothing ever is. I am writing this as accurately as I can - Kate remembers only patches and I didn't check my watch that often.

The waters are the protective and nourishing amniotic fluid that surround the baby. They can break up to 2 weeks before the baby makes an appearance so their breaking meant little. You're told to phone the Maternity Unit anyway. Kate was having contractions every 4 minutes and although they were not strong ones you're supposed to go in when they are every five minutes. Kate phoned the Maternity Unit and they said they were closed - either we could drive to Oxford (to be probably sent home) or wait for a community midwife. We waited.

Sue, the community midwife, was a lively lady in her late 30s and arrived at 06:00. She had a bright smile and checked to see if Kate was dilated at all, which she wasn't. The NHS only treats you as being in labour when the hole (cervix) of the internal holding space (womb) that holds the baby is 5cm in diameter (dilated), the baby's going nowhere until it's 10cm. So we waited. I stuffed Kate's face with a cream bun, rivita and cheese, chocolate and other goodies. The contractions remained regular, not giving Kate any respite.

At 08:00 Kate found a spot of blood in her sanitary pad (along with more "waters", they go on for ages - a weird pale green liquid). So we phoned the Maternity Unit, which were still closed but because this sounded bad, we were told to come in. I ploughed through morning traffic to the hospital. We weren't really worried at this point, we just wanted to have Kate checked to make sure that everything was ok. The contractions were steady. To understand a contraction, imagine the sum of a stitch, the worse food poisoning you've ever had, dreadful constipation, ball ache and being winded. That for a minute with three minutes respite.

The Royal Berkshire Hospital Maternity unit is split into two. Primarily, there are delivery suites. These are rooms about the size of our living room and hallway put together with a highly complex bed that has enough servo joints on it to be able to transform into a Decepticon. Each room is equipped with all the drug stuff you need and can be used as an operating theatre. There are 12 of those. One midwife for each room and the odd spare. Secondly there is the day assessment unit, which is another 4 or 5 smaller rooms with less facilities. Pregnant women go there to get checked out in the early stages of labour, which we were. There is only one midwife for the whole day assessment area.

We shuffled along through the security doors to the day assessment unit where we waited 45 minutes in a corridor. We had the option of sitting in the room but Kate preferred to stand during her contractions. So we did. In the corridor. 45 minutes later, we were shown to a room. Around an hour after that a midwife came in, gave Kate an examination, she was about 1cm dilated. The blood was normal. The contractions being often was not uncommon but unfortunate. The midwife mentioned that if the pain got too much we should phone up again. We were sent home.

Most of the day I spent pampering Kate: baths, watching TV she really liked, chocolate, food whenever possible. The contractions remained steady and grew in painfulness. As they were so close together, Kate could not get any sleep (which is what is recommended at this time). At 23:00 on Friday Kate was suffering so we phoned the hospital. We hoped that these stronger, more painful contractions meant that she was more dilated. We told them that the contractions were now so strong that regardless of her dilation, she wanted pain relief. We fought our way to the hospital once more. By this point, Kate was mooing like an anguished cow.

I felt sorry for those sitting in the nearby waiting room. Most of the women looked very pregnant and most of the chaps looked terrified, clasping hands with the ladies for moral support. One chap made eye contact with me as he left. He was white as a sheet. I grinned to suggest it was ok, he shuffled off.

We waited in the corridor again for 45 minutes. The contractions got stronger. Kate mooed louder. Nurses and other support staff would stop by occasionally and assure us a midwife would be with us shortly. Finally we were shown to a room. I told the orderly that Kate was here for the pain relief, so we needed that right now. She said she would fetch the midwife. It was nearly half an hour before a midwife showed up. Kate, now exhausted (she had been up and in pain for 19 hours) was in considerable stress. I tried to remain calm although it took gargantuan effort. Apparently the unit had now closed and that they were short staffed on top of that. We asked for Gas and Air (Nitrous Oxide) at first. Forty minutes passed before the midwife wheeled in the gas and air. By this time, Gas and Air was not enough. She needed an injection. I asked for one. Another 45 minutes passed before it arrived.

Count that up. Over 2 hours since we arrived and we FINALLY get the injections (diamorphine and one to stop the sickness). It took 2 minutes to administer and Kate relaxed into a sleep. The contractions slowed and the pain reduced. Enough to make her rest but not so much that she could sleep. I had to leave the room and in the confines of the gent's single loo wept for a good five minutes.

While Kate rested, I played Civilisation Revolution on my iPod Touch and tried to eat. I had taken loads of food in with me - including cheese and biscuits. Having been awake for more than 24 hours by this point made it difficult to eat, or do anything. At around 05:00 Saturday morning, we actually got some midwife care - from a young Polish lady called Katya. Every hour she came in to take blood pressure and see how things were. At 08:00, we were told that there was a room for us but that got taken by someone later in labour. That lasted until about 14:00, when the drugs had started to wear off and Gas and Air was not enough. I didn't want to leave Kate on her own but had to see if I could find a midwife. There were none. When I eventually collared one, she simply said that she was busy and would try and pop in. She did, half an hour later, took blood pressure, temperature and the like but then headed off.

At 17:00, I was going spare. Kate was exhausted and in serious distress and I couldn't find a midwife or any support staff so I stormed over to reception and told them that either they get me a midwife to room 12C or I will phone for an ambulance. The woman looked incredulous. I was livid and told her that we had been in the unit for 16 hours and had received no care. I took her name and asked to speak to her superior before returning to the room with Kate.

Fifteen minutes later, I was just getting ready to phone 999 when Judith arrived. Judith, a midwife in her 40s with a narrow, stern face, Egon Spengler's hairdo and a soft Irish accent arrived. She had just come onto shift. She inspected Kate, who was beside herself in tears and unable to answer any questions, and found she was at 5cm.

"You're exhausted, poor dear. I recommend an epidural. We'll get you into a delivery suite now."

Music to my ears. Things really started to happen now. Judith did leave the room but only for a minute or two at a time. Before we knew it, we were shuffling through to room 8, a delivery suite. Kate was moo-screaming now and had a contraction in the corridor, right near the room with a new batch of people waiting to go into day assessment.

Once in the delivery room, an anaesthetist came in and applied the epidural (spike in spine with drip fed painkillers) and a spinal block (spike in the spine filled with painkillers for RIGHT NOW). They also put her on a drip for keeping the contractions going and one for keeping her blood pressure up. They also put two scan systems on her - one to measure Felix's heartbeat and one to measure the strength of her contractions. Judith inspected Kate at 19:00 and said she was at 7cm, and that the baby would be born around 01:30 on Sunday.

Kate stopped screaming pretty much instantly after the spinal block went in. The room was settled. Kate rested and her contractions continued. She was relaxed and although the epidural didn't switch off all of the pain, the gas and air made it more manageable. Judith, our saviour, wrote up her paperwork and went off shift at midnight - being replaced by ex-Air Force Jackie. I managed to doze on and off and chat to Jackie, who was not at all impressed by the manner we had been treated. The system, it seemed, worked very well when they were not busy

At around 02:15, Kate was at 10cm but Felix had turned himself round - now facing the front. The contractions were now pushing the baby down and Kate was given an hour for Felix to turn himself back round. It was the calm before the storm. At the end of the hour, the Registrar doctor came in and gave Kate 10 minutes to push. Kate rolled onto her right side and as a contraction began, she pushed. I held the left leg up and egged her on. Four long pushes and then relax. The trace on the monitor showed the strength of each push. They grew with each push. Deep breath. Chin down and push. The Registrar Doctor, an Indian lady and Jackie remarked at how well Kate was doing and what good pushes they were. Kate (I found out later) felt that after all this, he was not going to be born by c-section.

I saw the crown of the head, then moments later, the whole head and with one last push (and a snip from Jackie), he slipped out onto the bed. A blue and red mass of limbs with an enormous head. Well done Kate! The midwife clamped the umbilical chord (a bright blue thing) and I cut through it. It was like cutting through chicken with scissors. His colour was too blue for their liking, so they popped him in a crib with a little oxygen. His chest heaved in with the strain and Jackie called for help - another midwife at first and then the paedeatrician - Dr Andrew Ho.

Kate's face was one of relief and worry. The way Felix was straining to breath was terrifying for both of us. His colour remained dark blue, although I could see he was pinking a little. Dr. Ho (who could not be much older than 25) checked all the usual things and then declared that he'd seen worse and that newborns often recover from the strain of birth. He'd come back in 10 minutes. Which he did. He also explained that infection killed babies, not breathing issues like this. As such, Kate's waters breaking early would mean a short hospital stay - so that they could do a quick toxicology if anything untoward happened. As the minutes passed, Felix breathed deeper and longer and finally Kate got a cuddle - so important to get skin to skin.

An hour later Kate was drinking tea, eating toast and having a bed bath. I was sent off to get the bags Kate would need in her short hospital stay - which would be at least 24 hours because her waters broke before labour. We decamped from the delivery suite to Marsh Ward where a bustling room of four beds (the other three filled) would be where Kate would be set. I got Kate settled and was told to leave. Kate was on the brink of tears, overwhelmed and exhausted. I reassured her that I was leaving her in the best hands and to call for any assistance. I drove home at about 07:30.

And that's it. I might update this when memory serves a little better.