I haven't partaken of #showcasesunday yet but a combination of being humped in the head these days by bereavement and being hungover made me think that today would be a good day to join in.
The post that immediately sprung to mind was The Bloody Octopus, not because it was poorly received, quite the opposite. Just that the tale itself although told in my hopefully amusing way was also a cathartic way of me reliving an event that had caused me great stress.
Given that I am now in a time of great stress again it has made me giggle slightly reading it. So a win for me. :0)
I fixed the odd broken image and amended a bit of text here and there to make it all shiny and ready for a new read.
So the story starts below with me visiting the hospital for a checkup on my number two child who was still in the womb...
I made a quick visit to the hospital today for a check up on number 2 baby.
Well, I say quick. Obviously, it's a British hospital so we checked in then sat for an hour and a half in a poky beige waiting room, sweating in swivel-eyed fear that some flesh-eating bug would start gnawing on us.
They are funny places hospitals with quite the bizarre mix of clientele. As we sat in the waiting room I cast a calloused eye around me. Hmm...
Wanker
Fanny-bag
Obnoxious boot
Uppity bastard
It was a relief when the Consultant sternly called our name. We followed him into his little room of power and he bade us sit.
Being a fine upstanding man I listened intently as he and my good lady discussed birthing plans and what not. After about two minutes however, I got bored and started to scuff my feet like an errant schoolboy.
I was hoaching to get my phone out and check my feed on steemit but admirably held back.
Then I heard a word in the conversation that stopped my wandering mind in its tracks.
Oh fuckity fuck, the blood was freezing in my veins. Surely they weren't bringing up all that shit again? Oh lord, they were. They were discussing the rather horrendous events of the birth of our first born.
And it all came flooding back.
There we were, all those moons ago. I was standing in the birthing room. There were nurses everywhere and astonishingly even a doctor. A few minutes before I had been holding my partner's hand. However, when the shit (literally) hit the fan, I had been crudely elbowed out of the way by a nurse who then commanded me to move down by the bottom of the bed. Annoyingly she didn't even attempt to use a sexy voice.
Aggrieved, I moved where I was bid. Apparently the baby's head was stuck. Unfortunately, I now had a ringside seat to the horror that was unfolding on the bed. I couldn't help but be aghast at the sight. It looked like a freeze frame of a wormhole forming from a Star Trek film.
Being a paragon of utter manhood I didn't faint even when the blood began to flow. (I wanted to.)
About half an hour later it looked like someone had thrown a bucket of pigs blood around the place. A doctor came in with wellies and what looked like a hand blender.
What the fuck, is he making a pasta sauce? I thought.
A nurse saw my face and quickly moved over and muttered something that was meant to be reassuring about a ventouse. I nodded sagely whilst wondering what the fuck a ventouse was.
When I saw the doctor attach the hand blender to the babies head I was none the wiser.
When he started bending and twisting and generally looking like he was trying to hoe a particularly tough vegetable patch. I would be the first to admit that my knees gave a little tremor.
Thankfully after a mere half hour of blood and anguished screams. There was a resounding cry. A baby's cry. I opened my eyes to see if the coast was clear. I couldn't see a child but a nurse was tugging me gently over to the bed. Another one held something that resembled a pulsing sloth's penis toward me and a pair of scissors.
I hastily remembered something about agreeing to cut the umbilical chord. With only the smallest snort of disdain, I cut the damned thing. It was rather leathery. I found it quite disagreeable and made it obvious with a loud
Surely this foul nightmare was over. Where was the damned baby? Why was I standing in a river of blood?
The nurses parted and there was my good lady lying there. Smiling in delight and relief. I made to smile back but then it happened.
A nurse proclaimed.
She stepped forward to plop a writhing, bloodied octopus on my partner's chest.
My first instinct was to leap forward and swat the damn thing off. I darted forward but before I could raise my hand. It turned its black soulless eyes on me and screamed.
I snapped out of my reverie. The consultant and my partner were staring at me.
Are you ok
Oh yeah, can't wait. I croaked.
And that was that, except the second time around everything went swimmingly, in part thanks to our doula who was frankly amazing.
So amazing that it made the Good Lady train and become one.
You never know how life is going to go.
