The Play-By-Play Part 2

After we finally gained access to the labor and delivery unit the really dumb questions didn't stop.

- Are you the father?  (That's debatable)

- Do you have insurance?  (I knew we forgot something!)

- Boxers or briefs?  (Bri- Hey, wait a second!)

The first nurse was a little less than pleasant, and as punishment for not quite being ready to have the baby, she sentenced us to two hours of aimlessly wandering the halls of the hospital at four in the morning.  I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Now, I'm sure that every husband experiences this at some point during the labor and delivery process, but there are moments when my wife was having contractions and in a lot of pain and I felt completely helpless, not knowing what to do to help her.

My wife:  (Groans of pain and agony)

Me:  Honey, is there anything I can do?

My wife:  (The look. You know, the look that says this is all your fault.  Which is kind of true, but if I remember right, this was mostly her idea.)

Me:  (Go back to eating my Pop-Tart from the vending machine)

Before my wife went into labor she warned me and apologized for anything mean that she says out of pain and frustration during the process and told me not to take it personal.  I wasn't quite sure what she meant until she had a particularly nasty contraction and yelled things like:

-"We're not having any more babies!"

-"No more sports for you!  Ever!"  

-"Peyton Manning is washed up!"

I don't know how she expected me to not take the last one personal.  Fortunately, her dealer showed up to give her some drugs. The doctors said they were giving her an “Epidural”, but I had my suspicions.  For instance, minutes after receiving the “Epidural” my wife called her sister exclaiming, “You have to try one of these!” 

Again, they assured me that it was, in fact, an actual epidural, but even the doctors started to wonder when they told my wife that it was time to push and she started making pushing motions with her arms. 

I highly recommend the epidural route for anyone planning to have a baby or attend your child’s 4th grade band concert.  The delivery process was smooth and a good experience for everyone involved, except the baby, who expressed his dislike for the event by screaming and urinating on the doctors and their equipment.   

Maybe that’s why the doctors get paid so much, because he sure as heck wasn’t doing a whole lot else.  The doctor strolled in after the nurse and I had done the hard part of helping my wife push.  He put on his protective gear (which the rest of us didn’t get), took a seat (which the rest of us didn’t have), and caught the baby as it plopped out.  And for all of this we paid him roughly 5 million dollars and my left pinky.

Alas, it was all worth it in the end.  Well, I have to go now.  My wife and I are late for a Legalize Epidurals rally.

1 comment:

  1. oh i loved reading this! it sounded quite similar to my husbands except i like peyton manning more than he and ours was during the day. oh, and we paid 5 million too but i love me an epidural!