The Early Signs.
It was Tuesday, January 14th, 7am. I had just woken up after snoozing thrice. Rubbing my eyes, I dragged my feet across the hall way to the bathroom and back. I put on my suit and lugged on a new pair of socks. It seemed like a typical work day morning until Gwyn sat next to me on our bed and said:"There was some blood."
My eyes suddenly lit up. She wasn't due for another five days, but we always knew that it could happen anytime near the due date. Was this going to be the day she goes into labour?
I asked her if she felt any contractions. "Some slight ones but could be nothing." she replied.
"Should I stay home today and not go to work then?" I wondered.
It sounds like a silly question but both of us didn't know the answer then. After a long silent pause, she decided:"I think you should carry on and go to work because it could be nothing. And, even if it is something, there will be enough time for you to come home. Remember they were sharing during antenatal class, it doesn't happen straight away."
With that, I left for work feeling nervous. Subconsiously, my gut was telling me that this could be the day. I arrived at the office, went straight to my boss and told him about what had happened in the morning. I was pre-empting my colleagues at work because when Gwyn does go into labour, I would be dropping everything right away and be gone for the next two weeks.
The morning felt really slow as I struggled to concentrate on the office tasks on hand. I was constantly texting and checking on her. She had gone for a walk to the village cafe with Mum and the dogs. They were having breakfast and everything seemed alright. It was at 11am when things started to change. "I think you better come back now." read her text.
We live about forty five minutes drive away from the office but I got home in slightly over half an hour. When I entered the living room, I saw her standing up and leaning forward against the back of our sofa. Her right hand was on her tummy and she looked like she was in pain. "Are you alright? Have you called Kristin?" I asked.
Kristin was our midwife and lead maternity caregiver. She had been visiting us regularly since Gwyn became pregnant. She was in her late fifties and had a very sociable and gentle personality. We chose her as our midwife because we got along well and shared very similar views on labour. She was also a very experienced midwife, having done it for more than thirty years.
It wasn't long ago that we last met her. In fact, we had only just saw her on Sunday at the Lavender farm in Otaki. "See you soon." when we bade farewell at the farm now seems all the more ironic.