That Shirt, Part 2

So I was going to tell you about my birthing shirt, and got distracted by my ‘enjoy’ shirt. It was actually a more important story from my life but I really did want to tell you about the birthing shirt, so here goes.
As a woman approaches the ninth month of pregnancy she becomes obsessed with things that those who have never gone through the experience – and especially men - would never dream of. In my anti-natal class the instructor had told us to make sure we had a comfortable shirt to wear during the birth. It should be loose and comfortable, long enough protect our modesty in the early stages, yet provide easy access to the vital bits when the action hotted up. Logically you would just pick your favourite t-shirt or not bother about wearing anything at all, but frankly that’s just not me and logic rarely applied past the 37th week. Oh no. If I have to go through a major experience whether it’s giving birth or going on holiday to a new location I research it to death and obsess about the detail. So I trawled through various shops until I ventured into a lingerie retailer in Lochem that sold a good line of night shirts. I picked out the perfect one: loose fitting, short, in a practical dark blue (won’t show blood stains!) and with a tiny cute silver angel printed on the chest. Just what I wanted. It went into ‘The Bag’ in preparation for ‘The Day’.
My preparations continued, including exhaustive reading and re-reading of what was considered the authoritative book on giving birth, and practising all of the fifteen different stages of labour. I felt prepared, calm, only mildly hysterical. The due date arrived, although I wasn’t too concerned as only 5% of babies arrived on the actual date and most first babies arrive later. How wrong I was.
I won’t bore you with the story of how Niels was born because I know how much you desperately don’t want to know about it, but it did involve us racing to the hospital early in the morning. Friends later said it that when they entered our flat that day it was like a spooky sci-fi film where everybody has been vaporised: a piece of toast with one bite out of it rested on the bench, two half-cups of coffee stood cold and congealed nearby…
At the hospital the decision was made to induce labour. Before I knew it I had a drip in my arm and drugs were being pumped into me to bring on contractions. The nurse left the room to let us ‘get on with it’ and I suddenly realised: I don’t have my birthing shirt on! At that moment it seemed (to me) humanly impossible to give birth without having the correct attire.
“Quick, open The Bag and get out The Shirt!” I ordered hubby. Only then did we realise that because I was already hooked up to a drip, I couldn’t get my current clothes off, let along any new ones on. Believe me the last thing you want to be wearing when you are giving birth is a bra so there I was, the t-shirt and bra I’d quickly pulled on that morning pulled over my head and hanging pathetically from my wrist above the drip, my body exposed for all to see. Did I give a shit? Did I hell! A 40 piece brass band could have marched through the room and I wouldn’t have blinked an eye.
As the drugs pumped into my body contractions kicked in with a suddenness and severity that literally took my breath away. “Give me The Book!” I shrieked at hubby but it seemed we’d gone from chapter one to chapter 14 in less than ten minutes and I threw it in despair into a corner. A belt around my waist hooked to a monitor was supposed to transmit signals to indicate when I was having a contraction, but it had slipped down without anybody noticing and as I groaned in agony hubby calmly consulted the screen then announced “that’s not a contraction, it didn’t even register”. My snarled explosive response can’t be repeated here without me being kicked off Blogspot but let’s just say I was less than impressed by him.
Four short hours later Niels entered the world and I – white, shaking, in shock and completely pain-killer and drug free (this is Holland after all) - held him in my arms for the first time.
A few weeks later I was looking for something to wear to bed and I came across my Birthing Shirt. Better late than never I guess.