Tim posted this to the Tun, a group of friends of his (eventually he may even start posting on his own here, I mean I gave him permission and everything) =). The links are mine (because I was bored)):

Hi gang -

Well, this afternoon we went to the hospital for a nice little 2 hour stay. Annette was having regular contractions, but not enough to admit her yet. They were/are causing quite a bit of back pain for her.

After an hour of being on this funky contraction monitoring device and watching the peaks and valleys of her contractions, they had her walk around for nearly an hour.

During the walk, I discovered that my wife is part-Vulcan...at least if the nerve pinches to my shoulder she gave me are any indication :) I volunteered to become the organic contraction monitor, telling the nurse that I could save us money by simply telling them how intense and how long her contractions were by how hard and how long she grabbed onto me, but they wouldn't go for that. I did get a nice shoulder/back massage out of the deal though :)

So there we are, walking around the maternity ward, Annette grabbing and kneading my shoulders...and she starts comparing the various open birthing rooms by size, view and proximity to the jaccuzi! :) Amazing what odd things go through the human mind at the strangest times. At one point we walked by a room that had the door closed....from the screams inside the room I think they were holding a 21st-Century Spanish Inquisition....it sure didn't sound like fun.

So here I am, awake when I should be asleep, enjoying what will surely be one of my very few remaining opportunities to sleep through the night undisturbed for the next 6 months to 1 year (or longer). Annette says I get the midnight and 2 AM feedings...I've repeatedly pointed out to her that I'm not *equipped* to feed a baby (can't get blood out of a turnip and you can't get milk out of a male nipple), but she merely responds with "That's what bottles are for". At one point I asked her "Well, how does the bottle get filled?", thinking that I had found a sure way out...

Alas, she mentioned this thing called a breast pump...which, in my baby-knowledge-naivety I had never heard of many moons ago. I told her I didn't care what technology she had, she was still not going to be able to get milk out of me. :) She found that rather funny, and then crushed my last bastion of hope by explaining that a breast pump was for the *woman*, not the man.

All this and I have to change poopy diapers too? Speaking of which, did you all know that it actually matters which *side* faces which way on a diaper? And they're not one-size-fits-all either.

Tim
Who thinks he'll go to bed now, and really hopes that somewhere between the baby popping out and the placenta popping out an owner's manual will pop out too :) Though with my luck it'll be written by Microsoft.....

P.S. Everybody keeps asking me if I'm ready....isn't it a little late to ask me that question? :)

P.P.S. After our unplanned tour of the Spanish Inquisition Dungeon...err, maternity ward, I think they should stick up a big sign at the entrance that says "Kids, don't try this at home!"

P.P.P.S. (or is that P.S.P.S.?) I'm very glad I'm a guy right now :)