It was a dark and stormy night… Ok, actually there were clear skies and the moon was almost full. It was a Friday and I had worked almost a full shift at Chumley’s… Ok, so Chum asked me to watch the bar for him while he ran to Wal-Mart for “30 minutes” and the next thing I knew it was 1am; this happens frequently, so I wasn’t surprised. I got home and found that Gemi was still awake; she was rubbing her belly and complaining that her back hurt, but that’s what 9-month-pregnant women do so I was sympathetic. I told her that if she sat backwards in the chair I would give her a back rub (actually, my insensitive ass suggested that she lay on the bed first; forgetting all about the baby belly getting in the way, but I’m a man, so sue me!) She told me that she had to pay a visit to the bathroom (pregnant women do a lot of that too) and then she just wanted to lie down and go to sleep. I was all about that because I had worked all day and was dog tired.  I fluffed the pillows, pulled up the blankets and crawled into comfort. Within seconds I could feel my consciousness slipping away. Sleep would come easy tonight.

“Marcus!”

She said my name in a way that was neither loud, nor soft, but somehow had an intensity that could cut through the dimensional barriers so that it could be heard by all forms of consciousness nearby.  The fish came to the edge of the tank. Voltron and Mega’s ears perked up. Everything in the vicinity took heed for a split second… Except for Kimmy, she can sleep through a nuclear war.

“My water just broke…!”

There’s something about those words that can turn the coolest, calmest, most collected, macho man into an over-excitable puddle of little-bitchdom. My eyes popped open and I think that I squealed like a Sorority girl for a second. I was all ready to start running around the room like a crazy person, then I looked into Gemi’s eyes. I realized that those words have a startling effect on a first-time mom as well. The emotional mixture of glee, fear, and joyous confusion in her eyes calmed me in a way that I have never been calmed before. I collected myself in a split second and said, “Well, I guess we’re having a baby, then.”

I collected Dee and Kim and started to load the car while Gemi collected herself. Dee was concerned that we weren’t moving fast enough but I reassured her that we had multiple hours before baby was going to be born. She calmed down and got some sort of twinkle in her eye, which meant that she was up to something, then disappeared into the bathroom with Gemi. On another occasion I would have pursued, but I had things to do. The car was finally packed and Kimmy was in her seat when Dee and Gemi emerged. My Gemi was in full make up, hair in a pony tail, dressed nicely; but comfortably, in a nutshell, she looked gooood. All I could do was laugh though. “What?” She said, “I’m not gonna bring our son into the world looking tore up.” I replied, “I give that ponytail 2 hours before it has to come out.” She just looked at me and got into the car.

When we got to Holmes Regional they didn’t have a room ready so we had to sit in the lobby. I would have been fine with that except for the contractions. The last thing in the world that you want to have staring you in the face is an unhappy woman who has just gone into labor. She wanted to lie down, she wanted to settle in, and she wanted it now. The main problem was the varying intensity of the contractions. There would be a long, mild one; then a short, intense one. It kept Gemi on her toes, and pregnant women don’t want to be on their toes, they want to be on their backs. The lady at the front desk must have been de-sensitized to pain, having seen so many pregnant women in her line of work. She told us to be patient. One thing that a woman in labor is NOT is patient. Due to a combination of stress and a particularly violent contraction, Gemi moaned and tossed her cookies into the nearest garbage can. She thought that this was embarrassing but it was to our advantage. Within minutes after that we were on our way to the birthing room.

The room was more of a suite. It had a comfortable bed that converts into a birthing table, a pull-out loveseat for daddy to sleep in while mommy is going through the hardest few hours of her life to date, a flat screen television where you can watch all the Lifetime programming that you can stand, and a full-sized bathroom. It was swank.  Gemi settled into the bed, Kim and D settled onto the loveseat, I sat in the chair. We put on the television, played some MSI, and talked a bit. I held Gemi’s hand through her contractions, which seemed to subside a little bit now that she was comfortable. After an hour it was evident that this was going to be a longer night than D and Kim had anticipated. They thought that they were going to be able to stay up and help Gemi through this ordeal, but they were fading fast. It was 3am and the sandman seemed to be sprinkling his sleep sands into the air ducts. We all felt the effects simultaneously. Kimmy was the first to fall. D was close behind. Realizing that Kim and D had taken the daddy bed I saw that my fate was intertwined with this green desk chair that I was sitting in. I turned it backwards and sat Fonzie style because that way I could lean forward on the backrest and pretend that it was a pillow. Gemi and I tried to talk. We talked about how great it was going to be when we had a son. We surmised about whose features he would get on what parts of his body. We guessed at how tall he was going to be. But, of course, our conversations were stippled by moans and groans of pain every 10 minutes.

The nurse showed up and asked us how we were and offered Gemi drugs to help with the pain. She refused, saying that her mom did it naturally and she would too. The nurse looked at Gemi and then turned to me. I shrugged as if to say “I gots nuthin to do with this.” The nurse shot me a “good luck” look, dimmed the lights, and walked out. Gemi turned to me and said, “These contractions are making me want to pull my hair out.” (Did I mention that the ponytail was long gone? I won that bet handily, but that’s not the kind of thing that you throw in the face of someone who is about to pop a kid out, knowwhatimean?). I gripped her hand, kissed her forehead and said, “Good. You’ll know that you’re ready when you want to claw your eyes out.” Gemi gave me a look that would have killed me instantly if a contraction hadn’t taken her death gaze powers away from her at that very moment.

An hour later Gemi , who was still refusing medication, did an amazing thing… She fell asleep. But the contractions were still coming so she would fall asleep for 7 minutes or so. Then she would wake up, breathe through the pain, and fall back into unconsciousness. I no longer had anyone to talk to, so I turned my attention to the television. There was a Ronco infomercial playing: he was selling knives. I didn’t want to watch this drivel so I went for the remote. The problem was that the remote was on the other side of Gemi and every time I attempted to let go of Gemi’s hand she would squeeze it really tight. So I found myself immobile. It seemed that Ron Popiel and I were destined to get acquainted tonight. After 20 minutes of slicing shoes in half and cutting various forms of currency I went for the remote again. To no avail, Gemi’s reflexes kicked in again and I was glued to my seat. This time, though, I heard a chuckle from the loveseat. At least Kimmy would be subjected to the same hellish sales pitches that I would.

**** These next few paragraphs are not for the faint of heart. If you have never seen a baby being birthed, or you have a weak stomach please leave the room or have your garbage pail near ****

At about 7am Gemi said that she needed to go to the bathroom. So I unraveled my sleepy ass from my chair and got to the other side of the bed where I helped her up and we made our way to the lavatory. When a woman is in labor she leaks a bit… OK, a lot. She had been “sleeping” for a couple of hours so her bed pad was pretty red. I made a mental note to tell the nurse to change if before I let Gemi lay back down. Also, when a woman in labor gets vertical and gravity takes over, she tends to leak onto the floor. Think of it as a natural way to track your pregnant mate down if she tries to run from you; they are little red bread crumbs that can lead her back into the bed. With every step she dropped a red crumb, all the way to the toilet.

A wise man once said that he always finds inspiration on the toilet… OK, that was Eminem, but you get the idea. Something magical happened on that throne. Gemi had a contraction of an immense magnitude. After it was over she exhaled and attempted to get up when another one hit her. We got through that one and she told me that she felt the urge to push. I thought that it was just because of the position that she was in. Gravity was taking its toll on her uterus so she thought that the baby was coming. I told her that we just needed to get back to the bed and then she would feel much better. We slowly made our way back to the birthing bed and Gemi got in.

She was assaulted by another violent contraction, and she told me to get the doctor. At this point I was sure that she was simply going to the next stage of contractions, you know, the stage where you want to rip your eyes out but you still have 16 more hours of labor. But then I looked behind me.

I saw a trail of small red dots leading into the bathroom. Then I saw another trail of larger, redder, almot chunky splotches leading out of the bathroom. I peered into the door and I saw a deep red, definitely chunky puddle of fluid that corresponded with the exact spot where Gemi and I lingered next to the toilet before going back to the bed. Later, when D saw the bathroom, she said: and I quote, “It looks like somebody murdered a midget in there!” Upon seeing that, I thought to myself, “Maybe I should go get the doctor.”

The nurse came in first and she was as skeptical as I was (probably because she hadn’t looked into the bathroom yet), besides, who goes into labor and has a baby 6 hours later? After Gemi yelled loud enough to make D stir the nurse decided that it was best to check anyway… 10cm, she was ready.

Dr. Tammany came in and, with a 1980’s Hasbro motion, transformed the bed into a fully functional birthing table complete with moveable headpiece, stirrups, and a small compartment in the back where daddies can pass out when it gets too intense. The doctor and I both knew that this was the home stretch, but it still wasn’t a short run. Gemi pushed with every contraction for almost 20 minutes. During the time between the doctor and I discussed why he’s a Yankees fan and why I disagree. Gemi is also a Yankees fan, but every time she tried to put in her opinion the baby decided to voice his. A small time later we saw the head. (I guess it didn’t help that I was wearing my Cubs shirt). Ten minutes after that, at 8:14am during a really big contraction that went with a really big push, Logan sprang into the world so quickly that Dr. Tammany had to catch him.

He was a wrinkled little blood covered alien baby with a huge noggin. He cried like a banshee. He was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen in my life and his cries were as melodic as Luther Vandross’s love songs.

I cut the cord myself, and consequently shot umbilical fluid into Dr. Tammany’s face. They cleaned baby up and handed him to mommy.

 

 

Then to daddy.