Oh! The Doula Day

I was driving along the highway the other day just minding my own business when I saw a billboard that caught my attention. With the plethora of signs out there it takes something special to distract us from our day but this one advertising midwife services got me to thinking.

Some time back I met a gal online and she was going to school to be a Doula (that rhymes with hula but it’s not quite the same although it does involve putting a large object through a moving hoop so it's a comparison at the least.) She also lived in sunny California where things are shall we say, “different?”

So, lo and behold, she comes up pregnant which in and of itself is a strange way to say that she was with child. You may be swimming and “come up” for air or “come up” sick with the flu or other ailment but getting pregnant is a little more involved.

She said it was a complete surprise to her which there again, is a little hard to believe since I do know a little bit about anatomy and how those little rug rats come into the world.

But anyway, we were friends and I got to hear about her daily morning sickness, trips to the doctor, backaches, problems with her boyfriend and whatever else she wanted to vent about. I was available for chat and she was full of it. 

The time came to have her baby and yes, she had hired another professional Doula to assist her at home. I am not sure there is a difference but it seems to be a newer term for midwife which I think is pretty close to meaning “at home” and “without $10,000 hospital bill.”

Now there is some terminology I can understand. 

So anyway my friend “D” decided to have her baby in her condo living room and to top that off, in a small swimming pool placed on the floor there. That had to interrupt the evenings television watching.

Being of a an engineering mind and background I could only imagine the floor failing under all that weight and activity and an old man and woman downstairs being startled by my friend, her boyfriend the Doula and water and all coming crashing down on top of them while they were watching Matlock. 

Now I do eat in the living room and find things there all the time like cereal, snacks, crackers and the like. I cannot imagine what I would find after a Douala Day and really don’t want to think about it too long since there is spaghetti cooking on the stove as we speak.

So Ol' Dutch got to thinking about all that and how the women seem to have a corner on all the “fun” activities surrounding the birth of a baby and I have decided to offer a new service for men.

I will be like a Douala but provide support for the men who are going thru childbirth. This is how it all would work: the man’s wife can text me when me she goes into labor. When the contractions really she will certainly be ready to kill the one man responsible for the pain and want him to leave immediately and take his unwanted advice with him. I will then show up and take him away for fishing, hunting, shopping at Bass Pro or other man things.

I will carry an iPad so that when the baby arrives and is all nice, swaddled in soft blankets, the new mother is sedated and smiling and the grandmothers are all goo-goo eyed, the nurse can send me a video which is the sign that the new father and I can rush back to the birth place and be a part of the pictures and smiles.

Of course if the fish are biting or a few more stitches are required to seal the deal for the wife, we will stay awhile longer thereby easing the pain even more for the family and particularly, the man.

The cost of such services will soon be picked up by the major medical carriers once they realize that having the man out of the way allows the wife to order hundreds of the same picture from the hospital nursery thereby helping their bottom line.

Oh,  the Doula Day.