Devils Have Eyes

On Monday my second daughter was born (God what have done to deserve that?).

Three women in my life now, I was already struggling to cope with two.

Anyway on Sunday my wife showed the firsts signs of birth, also called contractions. Stopwatch in one hand and the phone in the other to call the hospital as we progressed during the day. Contractions every five minutes and en route for the Birth Centre.

Extraordinary Midwives with warm smiles and smooth voices welcomed us.

But there and then, we encounter a setback, as there was no pool available.

“ What?” my wife said incredulously

She looked at me in panic “ Baby” (she calls me baby) “there’s no pool, we need a pool, how come there’s no pool, find me a pool!” She cried in between two contractions.

I tried to reassured her “everything is going to be fine”

“Don’t tell me everything is going to be fine, it’s not fine, don’t you dare lying to me! Can you not see there’s no pool? You’re a fool”

(I believe you understood by now that we planned on a water birth.)

A set of contraction spared me for a few moments.

We moved into a cozy room, we applied everything we learnt from our ludicrously expensive birth course.

She breathed deeply through her surges (fancy word for contractions), I massaged her whilst coaching her (Avoid catch phrases such as: You can do it! You’re beautiful. Push!).

I reminded her to keep her body relaxed, to breath through the nose, that her body was made for it…

After a couple of hours a midwife came in to announce that a pool was now free of use. My delicate wife shoved everyone out of her way to almost dive in the pool!

What a relief I thought!


Apparently being in the water slow down the process. Three hours later my wife who was understandably screaming her head off, was still in the giant bath tub (who are they kidding, it is not a pool).

I was still coaching her, she told me repeatedly to shut up, which I ignobly ignored.

Then, two more midwives enter the room in addition to the one already present.

At this moment I suspected something was not quite right. I observed them bird mouthing in each other ears whilst my wife was almost passed out.

She still managed a barely audible “What’s going on?”

I feared the worst, all case scenarios rushed into my mind (‘C’ section, still birth, Sigourney Weaver “Alien”)

I looked at them straight into the eyes with a look that meant “Don’t bullshit me, I know you know I know something is AWOL here!”

The senior midwife decided to break what seemed to be the longest silence ever (I wanted to shake her and yell at her “do something!”) she finally declared that my wife should step out of the water.

I helped her do that and in a lapse of five minutes, a head, followed by a small but nonetheless whole human body came off my beautiful wife’s vagina.

She cried, I cried, the baby cried!

I immediately examined her and noticed at first she looked like Sir Alan Sugar (all baby do) wrinkled, double chinned with big blue eyes.

Meaningless to say that I’m over the moon. She’s my precious, my most marvelous treasure, another miracle in my life and this despite depriving me from sleep and being involved in the “Boob Gate” (but this is a completely different story for another time).

Now it is 3pm here in London and I’m going back to bed.

P.S: I would like to acknowledge women’s physical and mental strength. I am awestruck to see how resilient they are given the amount of pain they endure giving birth.

Caro Gomez