Daddy crashed

... as I crowned!


Cradling baby Hen­drix – my part­ner is a mas­sive rock fan! – we were as­ton­ished it was over so quickly.

The labour was all of 30 min­utes. I al­most felt guilty it had gone so smoothly – some of my friends had de­liv­er­ies that had lasted longer than Test matches!

‘You should try a home birth next time,’ the mid­wife sug­gested.

That was in 2014 and, by the time Hen­drix was three, me and Dan, 29, were ex­pect­ing again.

The idea of a home birth was a no-go, though, given that the new house we’d moved into needed some se­ri­ous TLC.

At eight months gone, in July 2016, there was more paint on me than the liv­ing room walls!

Af­ter a nap, I woke up to find my wa­ters had bro­ken.

‘Here we go again,’ I thought as I called Dan, who was at work as a train driver. Ev­ery 20 min­utes, a pint of wa­ter would tip out of me, but I was so calm that I re­turned to the DIY. When Dan came back, we drove to Burn­ley Gen­eral Hos­pi­tal, drop­ping lit­tle Hen­drix off with my mum, Max­ine.

Once there, the mid­wife was as laid-back as I was.

‘Get some rest. Come back to­mor­row if you still feel the same way,’ she said.

But as soon as we got back to Mum’s, the con­trac­tions were com­ing thick and fast.

This time the baby re­ally com­ing. Sud­denly, the birth didn’t look such an easy ride!

Back in the car, rain lashed the wind­screen and we seemed to catch ev­ery red light.

I was sob­bing with pain. And it was an­other half an hour to get there…

‘It’s com­ing!’ I yelped as I grabbed hold of the door han­dle. The seat was soaked through. ‘C’mon, you’re just be­ing dra­matic,’ Dan sighed.


With my leg­gings around my an­kles,

I grabbed Dan’s hand from the gear­stick and made him feel our baby’s head.

‘Oh, my God,’ he gasped, go­ing white as a sheet.

He floored it to the hos­pi­tal and flagged down a nurse in the car park.

‘We’ve got a head!’ he shouted out of the win­dow.

The crowd of smok­ers milling around looked up at the com­mo­tion.

An au­di­ence

– oh, great!

But, sit­ting in the pas­sen­ger seat, I was in too much agony to care. With one last push, 8lb 2oz baby Arlo slith­ered into the arms of the nurse crouch­ing be­side our Corsa. But then I heard a thwack. Peer­ing round, I saw Dan ly­ing poleaxed on the tar­mac.

He was out cold, crum­pled against the tyre. He’d fainted!

A sec­ond nurse helped him up as he came to. Clutch­ing his head and blink­ing, he smiled weakly, ‘It’s all been a bit much.’ But it added to the drama for our crowd of on­look­ers, who gave us a good clap as we were wheeled into hos­pi­tal. It had been quite a show. Hardly a text­book de­liv­ery, but we’ll have a great story to tell Arlo when he’s older! Lau­ren Hil­ton, 29, Black­burn, Lan­cashire

Sur­prise pas­sen­ger – lit­tle Arlo

My boy’s got a great tale to tell!

Dan had a dif­fi­cult birth!

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