Baby
Places you never thought you’d be #572:
In the back of a Commodore at 1.30am in Adelaide, while your little sister and her boyfriend are in the front and arguing about what’s a safe speed to drive to the hospital labour ward. I’m leaning towards pretty fast, but I don’t buy into it.
If I were Bec, I would have been taking more issue at the chosen soundtrack for her excruciating pain – lame top 40 R’n’B circa five years ago, including such hits as Sorry Ms Jackson, and that annoying It’s Your Birthday crap. Actually, I guess at least that one was going to prove appropriate for someone.
At the hospital, a midwife filling out a form asked Bec: So, why have you come here today? I spent the next few hours thinking up possible answers. "We told the police we were speeding because I was about to give birth, so they escorted us here and now we're here. Got any coffee?"
The next few hours were long. And painful. Particularly for Bec, but I maintain I was feeling sympathy pain. I got kicked out of the birthing room when they decided to break Bec's waters, and had to hang out in a waiting room, where "Adelaide's Greatest Hits" were being piped through a soundsystem. I gritted my teeth through Savage Garden and Ronan Keating, before I decided to go and wait outside the door and listen to Bec screaming.
At about 6am, she stopped screaming and Zoe started screaming. But then she stopped too and everyone was happy.
The next morning, before we left to go visit Bec and Zoe at the hospital, her boyfriend Steve was bouncing around the house to the Offspring. He really does have the knack when it comes to surprisingly appropriate music.
In the back of a Commodore at 1.30am in Adelaide, while your little sister and her boyfriend are in the front and arguing about what’s a safe speed to drive to the hospital labour ward. I’m leaning towards pretty fast, but I don’t buy into it.
If I were Bec, I would have been taking more issue at the chosen soundtrack for her excruciating pain – lame top 40 R’n’B circa five years ago, including such hits as Sorry Ms Jackson, and that annoying It’s Your Birthday crap. Actually, I guess at least that one was going to prove appropriate for someone.
At the hospital, a midwife filling out a form asked Bec: So, why have you come here today? I spent the next few hours thinking up possible answers. "We told the police we were speeding because I was about to give birth, so they escorted us here and now we're here. Got any coffee?"
The next few hours were long. And painful. Particularly for Bec, but I maintain I was feeling sympathy pain. I got kicked out of the birthing room when they decided to break Bec's waters, and had to hang out in a waiting room, where "Adelaide's Greatest Hits" were being piped through a soundsystem. I gritted my teeth through Savage Garden and Ronan Keating, before I decided to go and wait outside the door and listen to Bec screaming.
At about 6am, she stopped screaming and Zoe started screaming. But then she stopped too and everyone was happy.
The next morning, before we left to go visit Bec and Zoe at the hospital, her boyfriend Steve was bouncing around the house to the Offspring. He really does have the knack when it comes to surprisingly appropriate music.
posted by Mare at 12:49 PM
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