 My wife was in labor and I was the one with the wet washcloth on my head. I asked the doctor if she had ever had an expectant father pass out. She was calm as she told me she hadn’t, but that a couple had vomited. I was pretty sure I was going to do both. The reality of what was happening had hit me hard. There I was, a week past my 25th birthday, and I was becoming an adult. There was another person in the room about to make their appearance and change my life completely. I suddenly wasn’t ready. I had had months to prepare for this, but I hadn’t given it much thought. My child was a little bump tucked away safely under my wife’s shirt. I never thought further ahead than the day I was in. I felt the room spinning as my wife began to push. I was sweating like
an athlete as I tried to comfort my wife. "I see a head," the doctor said. I couldn't look. I held my wife's hand and kept counting. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Then suddenly it was over. Our baby boy arrived weighing barely 5 pounds. He was so small and fragile looking. I was afraid if I held him he would break. I had images of his arm falling out of the socket like a child's doll. For the first couple of days all I could do was stare at him. I obsessed over the fact that this little life I had helped create was depending on me. What did I know about being a father? I had never been around babies before. I had held one once when I was 10. I had never even seen a diaper changed. I thought about my own father more than once. He had passed away 6 years before. I wondered what he was thinking and feeling when I was born. He was 43 years old, and I was his first child. I can’t imagine the thoughts he must have been having. I wondered if he was scared. I can’t imagine anyone looking into the face of this tiny life and not being a little scared by the responsibility. All the rules and warnings were overwhelming. The nurses gave us several handouts with tips about taking care of our new son. The thing that most terrified me was the Sucker. We were supposed to stick this bulb object up his nose every so often and suck out any liquids that were in his nose and mouth. I had so many questions. How often were we supposed to do it? How far into the nose do you insert it? How do you know if you got it all? Finally I fought against my fear and asked the nurse to explain things to me as if I were a child. She was a very colorful lady who informed me she was happy to answer my questions and she was taking me to "terror school." She proceeded to ask me question after question. If you came into the room and your baby was blue what do you do? Apparently the answer is to turn him on his side and pat his back, then call 911. Needless to say, I failed the Terror School quiz. But I learned a lot. It turns out that most of the things on the handouts were common sense. A parental intuition took over after my wife and I brought our son home. It wasn’t so scary anymore. Any problem that arose, we instinctively knew just what to do. My heart melts when my baby boy smiles. When he laughs, I am suddenly happier than I have ever been in my life. Everything that came before this little boy pales in comparison. I am no longer afraid, I am no longer worried. I no longer doubt my ability to take care of him. This is my future. I am a father. |
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