Labor Coach

Main Entry: pride Pronunciation: 'prId
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English pryde, from prud proud
1 : the quality or state of being proud: as a : inordinate self-esteem : CONCEIT b : a reasonable or justifiable self-respect c : delight or elation arising from some act, possession, or relationship pride>
2 : proud or disdainful behavior or treatment : DISDAIN
3 a : ostentatious display b : highest pitch : PRIME
4 : a source of pride : the best in a group or class
5 : a company of lions
6 : a showy or impressive group

In the begining:
Fathers walking their babies have no business sporting such a proud look. I mean from an effort point of view they have done very little to bring the child into this world. Yet, everytime a passerby goes "OOooo", I see the father's chest puff up immediately and his face fills up with a silly proud smile. Yes- mothers have a right to be proud, but dads? naw. Now for the other thing I never understood-- the term baby boy/baby girl. Isn't that redundant when referring to a baby?
stranger: Is that a boy or a girl?
parent: Oh thats a baby boy!!
me: *sigh*

Wednesday, June 20th 2007, 3:30 am:
We have been in this labor room since 9pm the previous night. Labor had progressed rapidly and painfully for Meera and I was sitting next to her doing my best to comfort her- more like piddling next to the Niagara falls though. She soon decided to take the offered epidural and that was the best decision for her, since she promptly went to sleep after that was given. Hours went by and suddenly the nurse walks in to our room with the much awaited anouncement, "You are fully dilated and ready to push".

It was 3:30am.

The lights were brightened, more nurses walk into the room as we help Meera push. It was more like waves in a beach. Each wave of pushing would bring a bit of Ayush's head out and as the contraction wore off and the pushing stops for the moment, the head will retract back a bit.
Suddenly a merry, rotund man with a generous mustache walked in with a loud announcement "I'm Dr. Medina, and you must be Lakshmi". He looks at the few micro inches of Ayush's crown that was poking out and announces "Your baby looks healthy". Even I could sense that he had no way of knowing from that small patch.

Some more pushing and the whole head was out. A Nurse called out for a stop to the marathon pushing session- and I almost let go of Meera's legs, when she announced sharply "No, I'm pushing all the way" and she gave a few more giant pushes.

Ayush slides out smoothly in front of my eyes, all shriveled up and pale. The umbilical cord is cut with such speed and precision, that only experience and countless deliveries can impart. Ayush is handed out to one of the army of nurses waiting behind. They all move like clockwork- each busy with some task. Somebody weighs him, while somebody else is draining the fluids from his lungs, somebody else measurs his lung capacity or something like that, somebody else is taking down his Apgar scores.

I suddenly realised that I was the only person in the room without a clear job to do. My title 'Labor coach' was gone with the end of labor. My role as husband was minimal now with so many members of the medical profession catering to Meera's comfort and health. My role as Father... well I had no idea what to do about that yet. It all seemed so surreal and I was in a trance from sensory overload. The doc snapped me out of it with a very simple question, "where is your camera?". I repeated back his question "camera?". "Yes, you do have one don't you". I go "ofcourse, but its in the trunk of my car". "Well, shouldn't you be taking pics of your newborn son?".

Monday night (just about 24 hours back) I had run about 17 miles and my feet were aching, but it didn't matter. I ran as fast as I could to the parking garage and grabbed my camera bag with all its contents:
- 1 digital SLR with a vertical grip
- 1 tripod, just in case ayush decides to pose like a model, holding himself perfectly still.
- 1 pocket tripod, I have no idea why I packed this in.
- 2 flashes for creative lighting. Somebody once said, photography is painting with light.
- 1 70-200mm f/2.8 telephoto beast of a lens. Just in case I wanted to take pics of my newborn from a mile away.
- 1 1.6 multiplier telephoto convertor. To increase the reach of the 70-200mm
- 1 wideangle 12-22mm f/4 lens. For those wideangle shots of my baby.
- 1 17-80mm f/3.5-5.5 lens. The only lens that I should have really had.
- 1 High-def mini DV video camcorder. For that perfect movie in Hi-Def.
- 1 polarising filter. Take the edge off harsh sunlight- just in case I needed pics of Ayush by noon.
- 1 Neutral density filter. Part of my filter kit, just got a free ride to the hospital.
- Lens cleaners
- extra batteries for camera, flashes and camcorder
- 1 Laptop to process the pictures after they are taken
- laptop charger to perform above task without being at the mercy of the battery's life.

Anyways, All these were packed into one rather largish heavyish bag. I slugged it over my back and ran back to the labor room as fast as I could. As I entered, everybody stopped what they were doing for a minute. The shock of seeing me with all that equipment in a labor room wears off quickly and its business as usual. I walked around the room taking pics of Ayush from different angles.

Soon the delivery was over and it was time for Meera to move to the maternity room and for me to walk Ayush to the nursery where more tests would be run and he would be bathed/cleaned for the first time. Just outside the nursery, the nurse instructed me to press a button. When I pushed on it the corridor was filled with some lovely lullaby. The nurse told me that everyone in the hospital would be able to hear the music and will know a baby was born. What a cute idea...

Once inside, they cleaned him up, swaddled him and stuck some needles into him. Soon it was time to sign some forms. As I filled in the various lines, I came to a line that said "Relation to baby:" and without missing a beat, I wrote "Father". I looked at what I wrote for a bit while the significance of the word sank in. The word gradually blurred in my vision and I realised my eyes were welling up. Quickly I let out a mock sneeze to justify the strange moisture in my eyes. Damn! the long hours in the labor room was playing havoc with my emotions.

Later as I walked out wheeling my baby in his bassinet. A passing couple cooed at him and congratulated me on my cute little new born. The lady asked "Is that a boy or a girl?" and instantly I replied, "Thats a baby boy". As they walked by, I caught a reflection of my face on the glass walls of the nursery-- it was filled with a silly proud smile.