Last night was a first. Five years on an ambulance makes you think you've seen just about everything. But the paragods are vicious mean spiteful gods and every once and a while they like to throw you a curve ball, especially at three in the morning.

So this morning, at the fore-mentioned time, my alert tones went off. I listened to the address through the still-half-asleep haze and then listened for the nature of the call so I would know what I would be up against. The words that wafted through the air were enough to wake me up fully and make me want to beat myself soundly in the head with a Buick. MATERNITY. "This won't be half bad." I thought to myself. "Maybe its not actually maternity. Maybe its just Braxton-Hicks, or indigestion. Maybe if were lucky we wont even have to transport out of town." (For those who don't know my response area is Gridley and Biggs-Gridley Hospital doesn't not have a delivery room.)

Arriving on scene I was greeted by a VERY pregnant young lady and her husband who walked up to the ambulance. She calmly explained that her water just broke (DOH!) but the contractions were 3-4 minutes apart (WOO HOO!) and this being her first child she should know as well as anyone what was going on. She climbed into the back of the ambulance, Dad climbed up front and off we went nice and calm to Freemont Medical Center.

Now remember the paragods I mentioned earlier. They pay attention, they listen, and they like nothing more than to prove you wrong. As we were driving past Live Oak I was having a very pleasant conversation with Dad about how we were going to Freemont simply because it was the closest hospital with L&D capabilities and that our ultimate goal was to not deliver a baby in the back of a filthy disgusting ambulance.* Just about then I heard mom say "I've gotta push!" and my partner calmly telling her "Just breath, you're doing just fine." About two seconds after that the ear piercing sound of new lungs giving vocal cords a whirl for the first time split the air and made me instantly wish I had become an accountant. Looking into the rear view mirror I saw my partner, a near 30 year EMS veteran, with a look on his face that could only be described as "Oh Shit!" With barely enough breath to whisper I heard him say "Step it up, bud." Which he never says. I've seen this man take full codes, amputations, drownings, and every other emergency you can think up without breaking a bead of sweat and certainly without transporting Code 3.

So off we went through the early morning city like a bat out of hell with a wide-eyed dad, a exhausted mom, a disgruntled partner, a wailing baby, and me, Mr. Currently Hating My Job. We arrived at Freemont to find the ENTIRE L&D department waiting for us on the ambulance deck. I explained (or at least I think I did. My brain had decided to abandon this mess shortly after the new arrival) that the baby had been delivered, was crying, and everything was A-Okay. "The baby was delivered in the back of the ambulance?" one of the nurses asked. "Yeah." was the best I could squeak out. "Oh! Wasn't that just the most beautiful experience ever?" If I was carrying a baseball bat she would have suddenly been wearing a wooden wig.

Off to L&D we went where Mom and Baby were found to be in good health and good condition. No one bothered to ask my partner or I how we were doing. I for one could have used a stiff drink and all I did was drive.

So there was my morning. While you, dear reader, were snuggled into your bed dreaming your dreams and freezing your partner with cold feet I was helping to deliver a baby. It's a weird perspective. You see, I've been there when plenty of last breaths and last words. I've seen many eyes close for the last time and responded to the after-effects of Deaths handy-work more times than I could count. This, however, was the first time I was witness to a first breath, a first cry, a first glimpse to a whole new world. It's not something I would want to do every day (once every five years is plenty, thank you) but now that a bit of time has worn away the rough edges of shock it was an experience I will look back on with a certain amount of awe.

*Ambulance's are filthy dirty disgusting places. There is no amount of scrubbing, disinfecting, or sterilization that can clean one up properly. There are cracks and crevices and porous areas from front to back that hides every kind of nasty goober you could possibly imagine. This may be a good environment if you've just been trampled by a yak but not for a newborn who haven't had enough time in the world to develop an immunity to it. I hear the argument "But women have been giving birth to babies in rice paddies for eons." Ill tell you from experience, the rice paddy is cleaner.