Don't wear your good boots
My wife giving birth to Junior 1... a long drawn out affair, lots of machines that go "Bing" turning up, more and more staff arriving, Mr Well'Ard here starting to get a bit twitchy as the numbers of people peering up the Mrs goes up.

Little flashbacks: ventouse delivery (oh look, a conehead!) failing, the Doc saying "only small cut" in a thick Sri Lankan accent before snipping away at the ladybits like Sweeney Todd on a bad day, then hauling bright blue Junior out with the cord wrapped twice around his neck and trailing bits of ripped placenta... the nice new NHS sprog popping bed that didn't fit the buckety thing at the bottom as the budget hadn't stretched to a new bed AND bucket... cue pair of Cat boots covered in blood, piss, amniotic fluid and god knows what. Once everything had been hoovered out of the Mrs, the sight of her being left with her hooves in the stirrups for a bit while junior is checked with her fun department resembling an explosion in the abbatoir, and then being stitched up by said Doc in a hurry with about 40 feet of sutures.

Did I mention no anaesthetic?

Or the first words of the community midwife when I got her home 4 days later with an inflatable rubber ring on her seat? Quote "Bloody Hell"... spot on there... god bless homeopathic Arnica necked in large doses and salt water is all I can say.

And birth no 2? Being forced into the hospital by her gently swearing husband as she was literally shitting herself in terror... to find that she was within minutes of dropping... and the cord was round the neck again... and she came out fine in 45 minutes with no drama although she did break one of my fingers by squeezing my hand too hard. Did I mention no anaesthetic?

Mind you, there was a very fit trainee midwife and the sight of her wrist deep in Mrs Osoks naughty bits was, errm, interesting...

Oh, and the MRI scan of my son's brain bits when we thought he had something horrible, that was nice. Or when he had eye surgery and came round weeping blood and screaming loud enough to set off car alarms.

Forget RTA's, GSW's, horrible industrial accidents, dead things, abbatoirs, body fluids, dead peeps gone a bit green. No bother. The more amusing or creative will even get a compliment.

But seeing the look of serious fecking concern in a midwife's eyes as your unborn son's heartbeat suddenly starts to drop....


And cheers for the Goatse pic you throbber. Some of us old boring people who work for a fecking living can't access this board when brain dead muppets post pics instead of threads.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Tue 26 Jun 2007, 13:07, Reply)