…today’s topic will probably be “So. Days, week, two weeks?” – which is possibly why I’m going to this one. I’m not sure; the last pregnancy taught me the value of smiling and nodding at strategic points, and we’re going with that. After that, food shopping.
Shorter Moe Lane: less posting this morning.
I don’t understand the point of husbands “helping” during the delivery. If the doctor and staff need “help”, perhaps they should hire more people. I was there for kids 1 and 3 (at sea for kid 2). I felt entirely useless and my wife was in no mood for any pat-pat of the hand or wiping of the brow. With our first kid, she slugged me. I had told her the doctor said not to push, she disagree with that assessment. Now I must live with the shame of being beaten up by a girl. Trust me, its safer in the waiting room.
For the first one, I was there to go get ice chips.
When they asked me if I wanted to cut the cord, I looked at them as if they were mad: didn’t these people go to medical school to learn how to do this? I was later told that it was to give the father something to do.
I had something to do. I was there to go get ice chips.