Waitin' on a Baby: 10 Thoughts From An Outsider

"Anyone who thinks women are the weaker sex never experienced childbirth."

As you guys know, my friend, Coach A, had a baby a couple of weeks ago. My Goddaughter, to be exact. We'll call her GBaby on my blog. Now I've had lots of friends have babies in my life, but this was the first time I was called on to help get someone to the hospital while they were in labor....and then sat on the couch in the hospital room waiting (for 33 hours), and then sat in the hallway peeking and listening through the door during delivery.
Now, I'm in no way, shape or form a baby person. It was quite the experience. I got to share it not only with Coach A, but also with her parents, Gbaby's father, Little L, and Frosty...who we've now officially deemed "The Family." And, so, here are 10 thoughts on this whole birthing process thing from an outsider looking in.

First, GBaby has no sense of time. More specifically--of night and day. Because of this, my phone rings at 3:00 am and I'm up and out of the house in about .25 seconds. We couldn't have done this during normal business hours? And not only that, we had to be awake at 3:00 am two nights in a row? By the time she arrived at 9:45 am, we had been up over 30 hours straight (not counting the snooze I tried to get on the couch in the hospital room).

Second, people who know about babies like to talk in numbers. When got the 3 am wake up call from GBaby's grandma, she was spouting off things like, "the contractions are 6 minutes apart" and "they are lasting 35 seconds" and all sorts of stuff. Mind you, GBaby's grandma is a math teacher and it was like flashback to high school for me. My still asleep brain kept thinking, "WHY is she giving me a math problem at 3 in the morning?" It felt like those questions about if Train A leaves the station at 6:00 traveling at 45 miles per hour.... Forget it!

Third, babies don't pop out all that quickly. Ergo, there was apparently no need for me to speed and run every red light between my house and Coach A's house on my way over to pick her up. (Sorry, Mom!) Coach A and Little L kept telling me the same thing on the way to the hospital. I didn't listen--I did not want this baby born in my car. Not on my watch!

As I mentioned, it took 33 hours for GBaby to finally pop out. And from the sounds of things through the door, "pop" is not the correct verb to be used here. The low point of the experience (for probably everyone but Coach A who had to, you know, HAVE the baby and all) was when the doctor came in at 5:30 am when we were all passed out on the couches in the room, woke us up, and we thought it was time to have a baby.....only to then inform us that she was still at a 9, even though three hours had passed. (See? All about numbers.) I about came off that couch, gave that doctor a ruler, and told her to try again!

Fourth, people at the hospital just don't take this stuff serious enough. We rolled up and I expected a gurney and a team of doctors (preferably one of whom looked like Dr. Ross on ER) to show up and help. Did they? No. We freaking had to hike all around the hospital to find an open door and once we finally did get in, we were in the wrong wing and the lady just pointed us to the elevator down the way. Coach A was quite calm....I was about 2 seconds from screaming, "Walk to the elevator? Are you kidding me? She's having a BABY not coming in for a nose job--get us a gurney in here STAT!"

Things didn't get much better as the time went on. At one point, I remarked that the Brittish midwife was great, but I just wanted to push fast forward on her and get things moving! The one person who did move quite quickly was the b#$%@ nurse who Coach A's mom told, "We're going to take this outside!"...I beelined it for the door to be sure there were no punches flying just in time to hear Coach A's mom say, "And don't you come back in here!" And that nurse was never seen again...smart girl.

Fifth, screw this natural birth, granola, hippie nonsense. Give me a doctor and some drugs. An epidural is your friend. No judgment on those of you who opt for the hippie nonsense option. I just will not be doing so. I may tattoo "I want an epidural now" on my forehead if/when the time comes.
Sixth, there are some screwed up relationships going on at the hospital labor and delivery ward. I was wondering out loud what the doctors and nurses though about "The Family" of six people, only two of whom are related to Coach A. But then I listened to a whole long coversation about one baby daddy who would be getting out of the pen in 3-5 years and saw a pregnant grandma talking to her teenage daughter and that girl's three year old son...meaning that the newborn baby is an instant uncle....and you know, I realzied we were probably boring.

Seventh, after 33 hours, you learn to entertain yourselves. Coach A had some great entertainment with me and Little L before the rest of The Family arrived. My favorite moment was when we had no more than gotten in the room and Coach A got her gown on than Little L turns to me with these huge wide eyes and says, "That's it. I'm adopting!"

Also, turns out, nurses don't think it's so clever when you put on their gloves and act like you are examining the monitor, the nurses like you even more. See Frosty and Exhibit A. FYI, she concluded that you read the contraction meter like a Richter Scale. We also had quite the time with the latex gloves, the peanut (don't even get me started).

Eighth, when you're having a baby, people lie to you. A lot. One hour (which I heard seriously 157 times) really means 10 more hours. 10 more minutes lasts a minimum of 45. When they tell you, "One more push" they mean for that contraction, not ever. When your birthing coach says, "We'll only do this for 15 minutes and if it doesn't work I promise we'll get a doctor in here and do a c-section," he's a liar too. And if they say, "I see the head!" ask what color the hair is. In my experience, they said that as motivation at least three times, which lead Little L to say, "They're lying again!" and me to question, "How many heads does she have?!?"

Ninth, if I ever decide to have a baby myself...I've already got dibs on Coach A's dad as a birthing coach. That guy's a rock star. Even when he was lying as noted above.
Tenth, for all my snarky remarks and tough talk....there was nothing like hearing that baby cry for the first time. Except maybe holding her for the first time.
Or seeking her grandpa crying after it was all over. Or watching Coach A give her the first bottle. Or the look on her daddy's face after he saw her for the first time.
Dang baby already has The Family wrapped around her little finger!