As I write this our 5th grandchild is making its way into the world.  Marc took Lisa in to the Central Delivery Suite at 09:30 this morning to be induced.  However, this is childbirth Covid style…

As soon as they arrived on the induction ward, our son was pushed back out of the door and just had time to drop Lisa’s bag off.   Apparently the nurses couldn’t get rid of him quickly enough.  Poor Lisa, having had 2 previous natural births, was nervous as she didn’t know what was going to happen and would have preferred Marc to be around.

Marc phones me every so often from the hospital, but I didn’t really like to tell him I’d had an induced birth and how much more unpleasant it is to a natural birth, and so I’ve kept tactfully quiet.  Apparently he’s only allowed to go back into the Delivery Suite when Lisa is in active labour.

So at the moment he’s sitting in the car outside in the car park instead of inside supporting his anxious wife.  He doesn’t want to wander around the corridors in his mask, in case Cyrus the Virus is about.  All the cafes there are take-away only, and all the tables and chairs have been removed.  I have mentioned to him that he can drive to our house for lunch, but it’s 25 minutes away from the hospital and he has no idea when he’ll be called back in.

Lisa has sent a video on WhatsApp of the baby’s heartbeat on a monitor.  Poor old Lisa. What a shame that Covid arrived at the same time as her pregnancy.