Bliss

It had arrived. Finally. My big moment. Look, I say big, but really I mean biggish. Nearly big. OK. Small.

I was presenting to the Balgowlah Rotary Club. I say 'presenting'. It was more that I was presenting myself. I'd been invited to 'say a few words' to the 40 or so members of Balgowlah Rotary at their monthly meeting. I say 40 ... it was more like 30. Or so!

I'd been invited by a lovely local lady. (We'll call her Joan). Joan had just made a very generous donation to Lifeline Northern Beaches and I, the big boss of Lifeline Northern Beaches, had jumped at the chance when she'd invited me to a meeting of her local Rotary Club.

I'll be honest - I like Rotary. They do 'stuff'. Great stuff. If you don't know them, they're basically a bunch of (usually) retired lads and lasses who are keen to give back in the local community. Like I say, they 'do stuff'. Anything. From sizzling sausages to running major fundraising events. To be honest, there's nowt quite like the 'grey army' for mobilising the troops. Or firing up the barbie. So there I was, sitting at one of 3 tables of 10, at the Balgowlah RSL, surrounded by 'oldies', staring at Joan. Or me). She finished. They clapped. All 28 of them. It was deafening. I stood up. All 58 eyes were on me. (I'm not counting mine). 

My big moment had arrived. 

And then my phone bleeped. A text message. From Picky.

"What time will you be home?"

To the uninitiated that might sound like a perfectly reasonable and innocuous message. But not to me. I know Picky. Well. Very well. Too well.

The thing is, I can tell what Picky is thinking from 100miles. Through thick fog. So I stood and stared at the screen. And they all sat and stared at me. The eyes. All 58 of them. I was torn. But I knew. I knew what I had to do. I picked up my phone. And typed one word. Just. One. Solitary. Word.

'Why?'

I waited. So did they. The eyes.

Bleep.

"I'm in a fair bit of pain."

Like I said; I know Picky. Well. When Picky says she's in 'a bit of pain', it means she's having her leg removed. With a pocket knife. 'A fair bit of pain' means that the pocket knife is blunt. And rusty.

I read the text message.
And then I looked up. 

At the eyes. 

And then at Joan. 

Time stood still. 

For a second. 

I knew. 

I knew I had to go.

I went.

It was 7.52pm

Balgowlah RSL is 15minutes from home on my scooter. I did it in 10. I ran two red lights and weaved through the traffic like I was told never to do on my scooter course.

As I jumped off my scooter outside the apartment block, I called Tansy. She knew. God knows how. The due date was still more than three weeks away. But she knew. I said we'd drop Pearl off at her place in 15minutes. 

Inside the apartment Picky was pacing around. 

I told her to get ready to leave.

I told Pearl to grab her pyjamas.

She was having her very first sleep over.

Pearl screamed with delight.

Eileen screamed in agony.

And then she told me that she wasn't in labour.

Now look, I'm a bloke, and I freely admit that blokes know diddly-squat about labour. We're not supposed to. We're supposed to know about lawn-mower engines and grouting the bathroom. We haven't evolved to know about stuff that far south on a woman. But I know this - when your first baby arrived in 56 minutes from woe to go, you don't mess about with stomach pain in the latter stages of pregnancy. 

Picky was having none of it. So, in desperation, and in desperate need of an ally, I called the midwife. It was a bad move. She asked to speak to Picky. And Picky repeated that she didn't think she was in labour. The midwife told us to wait for a while to 'see what happens'. 

Then Picky had a contraction. 

The midwife told me to get her to the hospital straight away.

I BLOODY WELL TOLD YOU! It was 8.20pm.

I told Pearl she was going for a sleepover. She went ballistic. She'd always wanted to go for a sleepover.

We dropped Pearl at her mate Gemma's place, and drove up to the hospital. It took 10minutes. It was 8.35pm.

At the hospital we were taken straight into a birthing room. I'd just timed a contraction on my Iphone. Four minutes! That was it. It was all there was. 240 seconds. And 10minutes earlier she'd tried to convince me (and a fully qualified midwife) that she wasn't in labour.  

The midwife wanted to check how dilated Eileen was.

So she had a look.
A good look.

But she couldn't see a cervix.

It had gone.

There was nothing.

She was fully dilated. 

I asked her how long. She said any minute. Eileen screamed. She needed to push. NOW. She pushed. The midwife said, 'Now'.

It was 8.52pm. Olive Bliss was born. 

Exactly an hour had passed. I'd missed my not-so-big moment for this big moment. It was bliss.