It was the 27th July 2002. That was the day I was in school. That was the day I was told to go home as my wife had broke her water bag. That was also the day when I know that the training, mission, hunger pangs I faced in almost 25 years of national service in the army was nothing, nothing as compared to staying awake for 12 hours hearing your wife screaming every now and then. Add to that, they really should have a bed for accompanying weak kneeed husband. Yup, I can still the pain in my right thumb as my wife twisted in during one of her contractions.
We were admitted into our ward first. It was cosy, clean and quiet. 2 hours of enjoying such bliss, that my wife wanted, no, demanded that we made our way to the delivery ward. Nurses, who I believe, were more experience in this matter than me, made the decision for me. Before I could ask for a wheelchair, there were two. Before I could ask for directions, a guide pushed our wheelchair out. None, however, told me to bring the blue or the pink jacket. That took me aprroximately 5 minutes. By that time, my wife was on the way out of the building. Yup, my noisemaker was on its way.
It turned out, that I had a very efficient noisemaker. He had pooped while still waiting for entry or exit whichever the case may be. I guess he has to be taken out fast, as I don't think anybody would want to be in the same pool as his own poop. But nobody was in a hurry. Nobody except me. The nurses came in every few minutes, just to check on my wife, and a couple of doctors came chit chatting what they had for dinner. My wife, looking dazed, just wanted to sleep. There were a few fifteen minutes before I or we heard some good news. A senior looking woman, in a nurse's uniform came and after inspecting my wife 'down there', exclaimed with all honesty and sincerely, it'll be another half an hour before my noise maker makes it own sign.
----To be continued---- (My noisemaker is making a menu.)
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