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The Delivery

It was a late night when I arrived home from work and my wife Rosemary told me she was ready. In earnest, we finished packing, got dressed, and began our hour and a half drive. On the way, the ‘rest’ of her water came. (Good thing we had put a couple of towels on the seat.)

At roughtly four a.m. we arrived at the hospital and were escorted to an evaluation room. “Two centimeters dilated” was the report thereafter. It was a long morning that morning,… because even after about twelve hours of labour she hadn’t dilated any further. The nurses there told us we may have to return home and come back when the pains increased. I told them that’s not going to happen; we live more than an hour away and there is snow on the roads. They acquiesced.

Later that afternoon, as she was resting I called the family and let them know where we were and that we’ll keep them updated.

It was early evening when Rosemary’s pains began to sharpen. I coached her as much as I could through the breathing. First we tried a warm bath, then some oxygen, but those didn’t work so well. It was rocking that took the edge off. Another twelve hours and no progress. But Rosemary remained as steady as a stone. We continued on through the night, and our doctor remained on call just for us. Five hours later in the early morning, a nurse decided to check … still only three centimeters dilated. Rosemary was having real bad pains by then, so I continued to coach her through it with proper breathing. But she didn’t want to go beyond thirty hours of pain. She wanted an epidural. So, thirty hours of pain later, and with an epidural in place, the nurses decided to give her an induction to encourage dilation. Then we slept for a good three hours.

The Birth

Then, once we awoke the nurses brought us both some food. After dinner, the nurses checked dilation and discovered that Rosemary only had another centimeter to go. An hour and forty-five minutes later, at 2:56 pm on the 16th day of February, 2008, a precious baby girl came into our world.

As mommy was still giving up the placenta, I watched a nurse clean her up under a lamp. She fussed only a little. Then we wrapped her up, and I held her close as mommy was stitched and the placenta was examined. Mommy held her baby girl. What a sight!

We had decided on her name years before, but it totally suits her. She is the Tiara of my life.

That afternoon, after the baby was breastfed the first time, we were moved into a private ward. I called everyone to tell them that it was a girl and what her name was. My father and sister came in that evening, and I said to my father,… happy birthday. I’ll bet that was the best birthday gift he ever had.

The next morning, I told Rosemary, “I’m sorry, hun, but my heart’s been stolen by another brunette.”

A Tiara For Tiara

My heart’s a home of memory,
my life’s a hall of light,
my journey here on Earth—a bright-lit trail.
And when you came, naught was the same,
you brought me deeper sight
—you blessed my home and hall till love prevailed.

My heart’s a home of memory,
and in it many niches,
yet, yours have filled it with the best memoirs:
one, silver-white
in winter-light,
in which we met with wishes,
—no longer would I dress in jets and noirs.

My life’s a hall of blended light,
and in it many visions
and yours are at the helm; a whelming placing
where rays of hope
and broader scope
will garner you provisions
for love and life and laughter and embracing.

My journey is a bright-lit trail,
and on it many pauses
where I have witnessed you in your endeavours.
I hope in many more travails
I get to see all clauses,
so I can test to be the best dad ever!

My heart’s a home of memory
my life’s a hall of light,
my journey here on Earth, a path in snow,
where I might tread the cold and dark,
but have the warmest night
for I am blessed hereafter, you to know.