Baby Hannah no more than one day old. Isn't she the most beautiful little cutie.

On Wednesday 12th April my beautiful baby daughter Hannah was born. Amazingly the 12th of April was the date predicted by the doctor 8 months previously. I don't really know how to describe properly that amazing day. I'll start at about 1am in the morning of the 12th....

Evelyn has woken up and is experiencing contractions once every 5 to 10 minutes or so. As I had feared my emergency departure kit was not packed so I began running round the room shoving things into bags on the slightest whim of requirement, the result being enough kit to be starting out on a winter holiday to Siberia. Once packed and ready we called the ambulance and they were there within 5 minutes. Evelyn refused to be carried down the 3 flights of stairs on a contraption more functional than that which the Queen of Sheba might expect but essentially the same thing. Our steps are very steep and very winding with a fairly flimsy handrail to prevent a death plunge to the tiles below. I guess it was a prudent decision to walk :)

Into the ambulance we are strapped, lights go on, siren wails and we are tearing through Vienna, jumping red lights and dispatching panicked late night drivers into all directions as we head towards the hospital. Then we are at the hospital and into the birthing ward where Evelyn is attached to a fetal heart monitor and some other device that measures contractions. Her dilation is checked and then we are delivered the fatal news .... GO HOME. The dilation is only two centimeters and they are not going to admit us to the ward at this time.

Upon enquiries on how to get back home again we are pointed to the taxi rank outside the hospital. Dubiously I comply. It is four O'clock in the morning. Will there be taxi's waiting outside the hospital for panicked parents to be? Like hell there will be any taxi's. I suggest to Evelyn that perhapps we shall go back into the hospital to get them to order us a taxi. "Don't worry" she cheerfully suggests, "there will be taxi's" on the main road. Main Road? I peer dimly into the distance down a treelined suburban/industrial looking street along the outer edge of the hospital complex. Dubiously I comply. After 10 minutes waddling down the street, stopping for the odd contraction we get to the "Main Road". Are there any taxi's here? Not likely. So it is four thirty in the morning. We are on a cold street corner in a strange suburb, pregnant, semi in labour, no taxi and I'm getting grumpy and impatient.

Eventually Evelyn manages to solicit a phone number for a taxi company from the telephone operator and we call in our ride home. Evelyn bites her tounge, squeezes my hand and tries to give away nothing as we get into the taxi, the fear being that a taxi driver with a nicely upholstered back seat is more than likely to boot us out into the cold rather than risk being second hand to a birth in the back seat of his vehicle.

Now we are home but we sleep nervously. Evelyn is in pain the entire night and the contractions are coming faster and stronger. By about 9 am the morning of the twelfth I convince her to call the ambulance once again. Again we do the same funny ritual. Down the stairs, into the ambulance, lights on, siren going, scattering traffic and running red lights. I'd hate to see how they would drive for a real emergency :)

At the hospital Evelyn is attached to the same fetal heart monitor and her dilation is checked. This time it is 6 centimeters and there is no doubt little Hannah is going to be here some time today.

Evelyn decides that the water birth is what she want's. From here on in I promise her that whatever she wants I will sort it out for her and I mean it.

She is relaxed in the bath but the contractions are becoming more and more painfull. It is distressing to see someone you love in such pain but I follow my training here and become a great orchestral conductor. Breath in I command and I lift my hands high. Out slowly I add and sweep my hands across the water to give rythm to her breathing. In the beginning splashing water and creating currents and edies in the pool water seemed to give relief from the pain but as it built even that lost it's usefullness. Eventually all I can do is help her focus on her breathing. At the time I did not know if I was being helpfull or not and it was all I could do to choke back my own tears and fears and keep focused on and for her.

The water breaks and Evelyn is convinced that the midwife has said the water is a strange color. She looks a bit worried. Now and further on during the delivery I look at the faces of the professionals in the room and they are calm and betray no sense of worry. I decide to trust in those faces and assure Evelyn that all is well. It turns out that the water was a strange color though not serious. The midwife decides that to avoid any risk we will move from the pool to the bed.

It is an agonizing effort for Evelyn to stand and remove herself ( with our help ) from the pool, a new contraction starting with one leg out and one leg inside the pool. We steady her and lead her to the bed. I can't remember how long it takes for the final contractions to start but we are not far past half an hour on the bed when the midwife instructs Evelyn to start pushing. At this time I start shaking and my oen feelings are flying. Evelyn is in very much pain but she keeps her concentration and follows the midwife's instructions and trusts in me when I keep assuring her all is well and that she is doing a brilliant job.

And then the head arrives. One little push and then she crowns, a purple ridge of alien looking skin has appeared. I am happy that I have been told on inumerable occasions about how blue they look and this was royal purple with the skin all bunched up over the skull from the pressure of being born. Then the head is all out. Evelyn is exhausted, scared but strong. I am tearfull, and excited, exhilerhated and mind numbed. I reach over and touch the slimy little head that is poking out. I see a little ear. I tell Evelyn over and over again that I see her ear, that I see her. She is here.

Then the contractions stop. Her head is out but the body is still in. All the staff, now numbering about five are all gathered round, looking bemused in a friendly sort of way. They massage Evelyn's tummy trying to induce one last contraction, one last push to bring life to our baby. It comes and with one final effort Hannah slides out and starts screaming. Our baby is here and I am bursting. They hand me a pair of surgical scisscors. I do not know what they want me to do. I am stunned and confused. Evelyn, tired and dazed directs me to the umbilical cord and with the help of the midwife I cut and baby Hannah is seperated from Evelyn for the first time since her conception.

The midwife uses a tube to suck the fluid from Hannah's lung, all while the little baby is screaming and making herself known to the new world she has arrived in. They then rush her off to the next room with me in pursuit. The doctor can barely do her job, giving oxygen, clearing the fluid, weighing and tagging with me jumping round trying to touch a tiny hand, a tiny ear, a tiny foot, bending over to kiss whatever little baby surface I can reach. I am overjoyed and finally the doctor lets me carry little baby Hannah back to Evelyn who has just delivered the placenta.

They leave us alone for an hour or so so we can comprehend all that has just happened. In fact it will take us many days and nights to come to understand it all.

That day we had a few visitors and that night with Evelyn exhausted I refused to leave the hospital and instead stayed in the second bed of the room. Hannah exhausted as much as her mother, fell asleep on my bare chest and we breathed together, her little chest and mine rising and falling together. I couldn't seperate myself from her, she was my baby and she had known human contact ever since she was concieved. I couldn't put her in a hospital crib on her first night in the world. So she slept on my chest and then by my side all night. I slept some but it was hard to take my eyes off her and decend into the night. I knew she was mine and I loved her and I loved Evelyn. I couldn't be happier.