Hanga - Birth story

It began in the morning. It was just like a normal morning, but after I started to work, my wife, Timi called me on phone:

Timi: My water broke and... - Oh no!!!, I haven't choose names yet, I have to find an excuse.
Me: OK, dear, I call you back soon, bye. - Where are the lists? Oh, no, they are at home, I have to go home for the name-lists.
But Timi called me again, she said she had phoned the ambulance, and probably she would be taken to the hospital.

Oh God, it's too early yet: I do not have the names. I finished my work, closed my computer (drank my coffee), and rushed to the hospital. Why is it happening to us again?!?! The name, I did not wrote a list, oh dear, I even do not remember Timi's list. Timi will kill me. Oh, I got it, I remember one name from the girl name list: Hanga, OK, it's good, it'll do.

When I arrived Timi was in labor. She had contractions in every 5 minutes and she was told that she was dilating quickly. Oh, I need a boy name, oh dear. A midwife came in and told Timi to lie on the bed, and started to instruct Timi on what to do, for example how to breathe. Boy name, oh no, I cannot remember.

A few minutes later the contractions became more intensive. Then a nurse arrived with about fifty sheets of paper and she said that Timi should sign them. OK, said Timi, but I can hardly hold the pen, and ooooaaaaahhhh. Okay, okay - said the midwife - wait, and after the contraction, try to sign it, is that okay? Yes, answered Timi, I'll try.

Wait, wait, said, the midwife, ookay, ookay aaand now: big breath, hold it, hold it aaaand sign, ok and now sign the next one, okay, aaand after the next contraction this page needs two signature: here and here, wait, just breathe calmly, in, out, in, out, ookay, contraction? okay, aaand noooow: big breath, hooooooold it, hold it, hold it, hold-hold-hold, aaaaand siiiiiiign, and fast-other-breath and sign aaand the next one ooookay, very good, okay Timi I know it is hard, but you can do it, oookay aaaand the laaaast page, and very-very big breath aaaaand, aaaand, no-no-no, hoooold it, hold it, aaand siiiiiiiiiiiiign, and siiiiiiiiign, one more big siiiiiiign and one more the laaaaast one, yeeees, I can see it, yes, OK, it's here, yes, great, you've done it!!!

After we finished the administration, the baby was born. Oh God, the name! Oh please, it must be a girl, please! Or else Timi will kill me! And it's a girl, said the midwife, what's her name? Thanks God!!!! What? Um, yes, her name is Hanga.

Hanga, resistance is futile - said a borg worker drone and started to assimilate Hanga: he plugged small plastic pipes into her little body and took her away to a borg maturation chamber.

After the birth I looked around: and I saw blood, yes, blood everywhere - just like our fridge. It was almost over, but you know, it was a hospital, a teaching hospital, so first the professor examined my wifes uterus and after him the whole class, one by one. It took about an hour, but we couldn't say a word, we had signed the agreement (at least 5 times).

One hour later I could see Hanga in the borg maturation chamber (OK, it was an incubator), and Timi also saw her in the afternoon. The birth was really fast, and I do not know much about Timi's feelings but I, I don't know, hmm, it just happened, I stood near Timi holding her right hand (and her head), I didn't do anything and it just happened. (I suppose Timi's viewpoint is radically different.) Hanga is getting better, and we hope we will all be home in a few days.


[1] In fact I should have known that it would be girl, let me briefly summarize the signs:
1. First, when we asked our son a few weeks ago about his opinion whether his sibling would be a boy or a girl: he said: she will be a girl, because I am a boy. OK, not bad, I thought, but I think we should go through the probability theory again.
2. Everyone said: it would be a girl, because of the dizziness during the early pregnancy, and because of the shape of Timi's belly.
3. We got pink bed-sheets with our second hand baby cot.
4. I had only a girl name.

[2] The curious reader might ask why our fridge is full of blood, I have two explanation, you can choose:
1. A few weeks ago 2 Mormons came and started a conversation with me. My wife always says that I should not let them in, but they are so kind, and I thought I should have try to explain them that this thing about their prophet Joseph Smith is a bit, how can I say it, so, a bit unlikely. You know, dialogue, to know each other, this is what tolerance is about. “But why did you slice them into pieces and put them into the fridge?”, asked my wife, after the visit. You know, it seemed the only way to convince them.
2. The blackberry.