Delivering the metric system

"Auntie" Janelle with Luke

My friend Crystal delivered a healthy baby boy this weekend. I’m very proud to be an honorary “auntie” to Luke and happy for Crystal and Ryan, who survived a not-so-easy delivery. 

Ryan sent news that the baby was on its way on Saturday morning with this text message:

“At the hospital. 5 cm and counting.”

This prompted the following conversation between me and Doug:

Me: “Crystal’s at the hospital. Ryan says she is 5 cm. Do you know what that means?”

Doug: “Hmm. Not sure.”

We agreed that delivering a baby can take a really long time, so I was trying to get some sense of what 5 centimeters meant in relation to when we should leave our house and travel to the hospital.

I sent a text message back to Ryan:

“Ok! Great news. When should we come over?”

Ryan’s text: “Not sure.”

Another, “not sure”.  Now, I was stuck with the metric system as an indicator, and I probably couldn’t come close to accurately measuring out 5 centimeters with two fingers. I agree that the metric system is far superior to our inches and feet, but it’s still unfamiliar territory. Mostly it just sounded small to me, especially since the one metaphor I’m familiar with about delivery is something about pushing a watermelon out of something the size of a lemon. 

Just as I was about to get out the ruler and check, Ryan sent another text:

“This evening would be better. Maybe even tonight or in the morning. We are looking at 5 hours minimum. I will keep you posted.”

So, I did some laundry, then cleaned the house, and then heard another beep from my phone. Ryan again.

“Gettin close. 8-9 cm at last check.”

Ok, now I did take out my ruler. Huh. It still didn’t look like a baby would fit through that small of a space, but I guessed it was good progress.

Just as we had hunkered down on the couch to watch the Celtics play for the evening, I got another text from Ryan:

“Still no baby but fully dialated. Should be soon. Tell Doug to drink a beer for me. I need one.”

I imagine that a lot of fathers wish hospitals kept refrigerators full of beer in the delivery room. Doug wanted to be helpful, so we cracked one open in honor of Ryan and watched the rest of the game.

I was worried that there was no celebratory text on my phone the next morning, so I called the hospital and they said Crystal delivered a baby boy early that morning. Ryan had been too exhausted to send news (and I didn’t blame him). We went over to visit the beautiful boy, and a bonus of his birth is that I’m now reacquainted with the metric system.  

The happy family