calamities

The labours begun, but the one vital piece of pain-relief gear has gone missing. Good thing Tamsins birthing partner is on the case. Tony Wilson reveals what happens when his cool-in-a-crisis cred is put to its biggest test.

The painful truth

ll i wanted to be was the best goddamned birthing partner I could be. To stroke Tamsins cheek when it was there to be stroked. To massage her aches when they threatened to overwhelm. To liaise with the midwives about pain relief. To keep up the encouragement. To fill a chair. To get my freaking hands off her when she told me to get my freaking hands off her. I didnt want to perform heroics. One of the first things taught at our antenatal classes was that the birth shouldnt be first and foremost about the birthing partner. I just had to be there. It was 3am when Tamsin went into labour. I wasnt there. She was at Frances Perry House in Carlton, under observation in advance of an 8am induction. I was asleep at home in North Fitzroy, having been unimpressed by the size and softness of the Frances Perry sofa beds. The first I knew of it was a 4am text message. Contractions 3 minutes apart. Terrible pain. Nurses not sure if labour. Im sure. Come in. I leapt from bed and into a cold shower. This was it. Tamsin was five days overdue and wed never been more ready for anything in our lives. I did the mental checklist. Cold packs, yes. Weis bars and lollies, yes. Fit ball? Shit, did the hospital provide fit balls? I texted Tamsin. The hospital provided fit balls. She suggested I hurry. Nine minutes later I was striding into the birthing suite on level 11. If Tam wasnt already in hell, she was definitely floating on the River Styx, gazing at me with desperate eyes, look-

ing for a spot to disembark. The contractions were now less than three minutes apart. The attending midwife had cast initial doubts aside and was offering Tam the gas. TENS machine! Tamsin gritted at me through the mouthpiece. You have to put on the TENS machine. Now! For many months, the plan had been that Tamsin would get through the early hours of labour with the assistance of TENS transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation. A TENS machine comprises two electrodes, some connecting wires, and a hand-held amplitude control button. Electrical impulses shoot into the nerves near the base of the spine to distract pain receptors in the brain from the considerably more serious pain of labour. According to the instructions, TENS might reduce early pain by as much as 30 per cent. Tamsin was definitely a disciple. She believed in TENS. The problem was that at 4am in the labour ward, I couldnt find the electrodes. Search the bags, Tamsin shrieked as another contraction started building. Theyre not here, I kept saying. The contents of our carefully packed hospital bags, overflowing with all manner of essential oils that no longer seemed so essential, were strewn across the floor. No luck. They must be on the kitchen table, I said, trying to comfort Tam. Your mums got a key. Ill ring her and get her to drive in and get them. No. Shes in Burwood. Itll take an hour. I need them now! It has to be you.
May 5, 2007 Good Weekend 43

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calamities
Suddenly, I had a mission, a purpose. I farewelled the nursing staff as if I were Clark Kent heading for a phone box. Seconds later I was out of the lift and into the car, accelerating to a speed that said to Tamsin that I loved her, but which would offend only the most cold-hearted of police officers. I gripped the steering wheel, whiteknuckled. I had to get those electrodes. Minutes later, I was at the front door and racing down the corridor. As soon as I saw the kitchen table I knew we were in trouble. No electrodes. No, no, no, shit, come on, theyve got to be here. I fell to my knees and started rummaging through the adjacent newspaper basket. Maybe the electrodes had fallen between the pages of the papers? Then I scanned the table again. Seemingly a limitless amount of TENS order forms and instruction manuals. There was TENS paraphernalia everywhere, but no actual bloody electrodes. I searched the kitchen floor on hands and knees, hoping that the electrodes might be born out of the tiles. Then I was on my feet, running from room to room, checking beds, desks, shelves, cupboards, every surface with desperate, uncomprehending eyes. Come on, come on. Please God, give me something. Im not a religious man, so couldnt expect much, but finally I pulled open the drawer of an antique kitchen dresser given to Tamsin by her granny. Suddenly, gloriously, there they were. A plastic bag containing two strips, instructions and a tube of application fluid peeked out of the top of the drawer. It was as if Id struck the Welcome Stranger. Thank God thank God I wrote the text as I ran to the car. Simple and restrained, I figured. No need to gloat over the

Suddenly, I had a mission, a purpose. Seconds later I was in the car, accelerating to a speed that said to Tamsin that I loved her, but which would offend only the most cold-hearted of police officers. I had to get those electrodes.

difficulty of the find. Got them. Be there in a minute. Hang in there. Much love. The message back was blunt. Just two desperate words: Please hurry. I parked in a two-hour zone straight outside the emergency arrival gate, and sprinted for the lift. Within a minute, I was back at Tamsins bedside, treasure in hand. She was practically in tears, begging me to assemble the machine quickly. How do I attach them? I asked desperately, as I grabbed the amplitude control in one hand and a silky blue-black electrode in the other. Isnt it obvious, she said, clearly annoyed because we had been through the assembly process a couple of weeks before. I remembered it being easy. Nothing a Meccano-savvy three-year-old couldnt nail. Electrode jack to input hole. Turn on the power. But it wasnt obvious. There were no jacks. I held up the strip of material, and there was no wire leading off it. The instruction sheet fell out of the plastic bag. bicycle repair kit said the evil black lettering at the top of the A4 page. Its not possible, I murmured to myself, feeling the full, sickening weight of the disaster unfold. It wasnt possible. I stared again at the contents of the plastic bag. The nylon patches. The glue. I read those horrible words again, willing them to say something else. They didnt: bicycle repair kit. Tam, Im such a dickhead. Im so sorry. Its not them. I brought in a bicycle repair kit. What! What! Already she was crying. Why? Why do these things always happen to you? Later she told me that she was thinking of the time in Ireland when I told her as we were return-

ing the hire car at Dublin airport that the passports were still in the room safe in Galway. But she said nothing more. She just curled up on the delivery bed and cried, which set me off as well. Im so sorry, I sobbed. Im so sorry. At 8.05am, Tamsin opted for an epidural, and temporarily at least, the agony was over. I asked her if she minded if I moved the car. She grunted, indicating City of Melbourne parking regulations werent high on her list of concerns. I drove the car across the road to the multistorey car park, which, according to the sign, cost $16 per day. I actually jumped out of the car and asked the guy at the window whether hospital patients received a discount, but he just shook his head. Some might say its a little tight to haggle on the day of the birth of your first-born, but really, if there was a discounted rate, it would have been worth knowing. Then I parked the car, locked it, glanced into the back seat, and suddenly, sickeningly, annoyingly, found the freaking TENS electrodes. Just where Tamsin had left them. Thats the unfair thing. Strictly speaking, the misplacing of the TENS electrodes was her oversight, and yet how would history attribute the blame? That bicycle repair kit would damn me forever. Polly Marie-Louise Wilson was born at 1.29pm on a hot Wednesday afternoon. For nearly an hour, my beautiful new daughter lay in my arms softly cooing, like a marathon runner who never expected the race to be so hard or so long. Shes beautiful, Pam the midwife said, after weighing and wrapping. Shes a good breather, and everything seems to be in the right place TENS fingers and TENS toes. At least thats what it sounded like to me.