All that comes with it

The delivery suite has pretty tight security. Every time you want to come in or go out you have to be buzzed through by a midwife. This is to prevent anyone just wandering in and helping themselves to a baby or two.

I had to leave the ward now and again to get something to drink, send a text message, or just stretch my legs. I also wasn’t allowed to use the toilet attached to Kerry’s room for some reason, and so had to go through the security doors every time I wanted a pee (and people who know me will tell you I pee a lot). Each time I left I had to press a doorbell and talk through an intercom to be let back in.

I had just finished phoning my mother to tell her it looked like things were starting to move. I had bought a bottle of diet coke at the hospital shop and, not wanting to clutter up Kerry’s room with rubbish, quickly finished it off before I pressed the intercom button. After a short wait I heard the crackly voice of the midwife at the other end:

“Who is it please?”

“It’s… BUUURRPP” I replied with a bone shattering belch as the carbonated water forced its way out of my stomach.

There then came a stunned silence from the intercom. Now the microphones on those things are pretty primitive; but I’m sure I heard the rustle of papers of the midwife reaching for the social services child protection forms.