Advice for labor coaches
This advice is more subtle than the obvious cautionary bit about the wisdom of inviting
immediate and extended family in for the birth of the newest member of the clan. It goes beyond
the sheer wimpiness of fainting. My husband did something which was such a breach of labor
coach etiquette that I am amazed he was never given any prior warning against committing this
heinous act. Even now I shudder at the memory. My husband consumed a bean and cheese
burrito purchased from the vending machine in Highland Hospital moments before he felt
compelled to breathe along with me, EVERY SINGLE HOOT, HOUT, HOOT, during the hour
after hour it took to give birth to our first child.
I have told every expectant father about this situation, but something more should be done.
There should be a distinct warning label on the offending vending machine indicating the grim
consequences to occur if a woman in active labor gets one fetid, putrefying, nauseating, galling,
whiff of a bean and cheese burrito purchased from any vending machine on hospital grounds.
During labor I was monitored for everything else, so why didn't the hospital staff note the evident
distress caused by my husband emitting noisy, gassy gusts of repellant respiration over my
helplessly supine body?
When it was all over, Bill (now on the other side of the delivery room) noticed my tears and
sweetly assumed I was crying those fabled tears of maternal joy. He was right about one thing;
they were tears of joy.
Back to the Home Page