...ruffles...

On Friday I became an uncle for the first time. At about 11pm my sister, after a 23 hour labour that sound like nothing short of butchery, a little Sophie (name: tbc) finally popped out. I don't know the details of the birth, I know Kirsty was due to be induced, but don't know what that involves. I asked Emma's friend Jo, the mother to 9 month old Alice, Emma's goddaughter. She said something about knitting needles and used the word "Vaginal" and I had an involuntary loss of hearing for a while. My mum used words like "Suction", "Epidural", and "Stitches" referring to the labour. I chose not to listen to the detail. None the less, I don't think the induction was needed as things began to happen naturally on Thursday night.

My dad, who, as he approaches retirement is the quickest draw I know on work email, sent through a message on Friday morning saying the baby was due "About lunchtime". Lunchtime passed, and mid-afternoon tea... if you take mid afternoon tea, and past the end of work and on into the night. All the while there was no news. Funnily enough both dad and I independently came up with the same analogy of how that feels. It's like waiting for an Apollo space landing craft to re-enter the atmosphere and regain radio contact with mission control. I was a little more specific choosing Apollo 13 for my analogous reference point, dad chose the whole Apollo space programme and wasn't too discerning about which mission it was most like. Presumably, whilst we dreamt up clever analogies, Kirsty felt like she was passing the whole Apollo space mission, ground crews and all, out between her legs.

Labels: General me