Our new baby is now almost three weeks old. Big brown eyes, long legs,
funny little tail, born in a stable... Gerry was just about to load
the very pregnant mare into the horsebox and drive her to the foaling
unit when he realised it was too late, she was already in labour.
There followed 40 minutes of tugging, a fair amount of blood, sweat and
tears and finally they delivered the horse of a strong healthy colt. Strange thing is, eleven years ago when I was pregnant, Gerry decided to forego
the 'ringside seat' in the delivery suite on the grounds that "I'm no
good at that sort of thing".
Did he think he'd have to deliver the
baby, I wonder?
Proof though that there is a God (divine retribution for his past
misdemeanours) and that when the chips are down - and the waters break - we can all do so much
more than we would have believed possible.
My planned birth partner was my sister's boyfriend. An unusual
arrangement but Sue couldn't even wash out a chicken without feeling
faint and sisterly love just didn't stretch that far. Besides, Brian was a
plumber and I felt he'd probably be quite an asset to the midwife.
As luck would have it, he was out on call when I went into labour, ten
days early so I ended up with a newly-qualified midwife and a sister so
hyper that in between contractions I had to negotiate a deal: she got the gas and
air and I got the epidural.
But she was there for me when I needed her and she ended up actually enjoying the whole
experience. As I said, it's quite surprising what we're capable of
when our escape route has been bricked up and plastered over. And
that's got me thinking of the whole area of motivation and what it
takes to get us into action.
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