I have had the good fortune to be present for the birth of both of my children. This is without a doubt one of the most highly impactful events of my life. Rational Jenn suggested doing a post on the experience, so here I go with a simplified slice through the complex 23 dimensional time-emotion-event-space-stream.
Helplessness...
"Never fear, Mr. Fixit is here! Have tools, will travel, what can I fix for you my dear?" There is nothing I can fix. There are no tools I can use, no drugs I can administer, no "real help" I can be in getting the baby out. At best, I am a lackey to an errand boy during these proceedings. A lackey trained to utter a few simple phrases:
1. Can I get you anything?
2. You're doing great, honey!
3. Nurse? Dr? (i.e. "fetch, Mr Fixit, fetch help")
Also a lackey with common sense *not* to utter a few simple phrases:
1. Is it supposed to look like that?
2. Holy s**t that's the biggest needle I've ever seen!
3. It can't hurt that bad.
4. Git yer hands offa my wife!
Cluelessness...
My son (kid #1) was 3 weeks early, a complete surprise to us. You should have seen me struggling with the forms, "you need to know the date of her last what?!?" "due date? well, it wasn't today", "grandma's maiden name? Who's having this baby anyway?" "oh damn, not my SSN, *her* SSN" Where's the nurse? We're gonna want an epidural! What do you mean it is too late? (in this instance, "too late" meant she went from 3-4 cm dilated to "we're gonna have a baby now, ok?" in the blink of an eye)
My daughter (kid #2) was happy being a warm little bun in the oven. We had time to "make reservations early to avoid the holiday rush" at the hospital and leisurely strolled out of the house that morning. Ok, so I was still a wreck "what do you mean we're leaving now?", but I had time to get her bags, my bag (I planned to overnight with her), the kitchen sink, a pocketable camera and a book I could read in case time permitted.
Shock...
In movies set any time before 1950, it seems that childbirth is something that is done behind closed doors, requiring lots of towels, shouting, and hot water. The father most definitely is not invited. In our modern enlightened view, "the man" can be present for everything. You can get the joy of having your hand squeezed hard enough that your toes turn purple, and hearing whatever it is that your sweet dainty polite innocent wife might utter.
(side note: speaking of utterings, for those who may be proceeding down this path, anticipate many highly hormonal, and emotionally charged situations during delivery and a couple months after birth where one or both of you are sleep-deprived, cranky, in pain, or just plain tired of hearing a bawling baby -- during this period plan to forgive absolutely anything said or done in one of "those moments" -- it will happen, and keeping an objective viewpoint knowing that it will happen makes it much easier to handle properly).
(back to shock) There are reasons deliveries were hidden behind closed doors -- in spite of any efforts at modesty, everything is "hanging out in there for the world to see". Every nurse, and doctor in the place seems to want to see how much they can get my wife to wince in pain -- "let's just see how we're doing here m'kay?" that and "you may feel a little pressure" -- I've been with this woman long enough to know "a little pressure" probably hurts like hell, without hearing a word from her.
The other reason for closed doors, is that giving birth is MESSY. There is no "oh look at this delicate, warm bun fresh from the over, isn't it lovely?", no this is the sort of bloody gruesome that makes horror movies pale in comparison, and leaves you wondering to yourself (don't you dare say it aloud) "is *that* supposed to happen?" Ok, so it isn't all that bad, but if you have a weak stomach for such things I'd recommend going back to the 1950's approach of pacing the halls.
The hospital staff in the delivery room was extremely adept at mess reduction and cleanup. Kudos to them for an amazing job on so many levels. (interpersonal, custodial, medical) Nobody yelled or panicked or dropped the baby -- all good attributes to have in a medical team.
Amazement...
There is a point during the delivery process when the doctor may look up to say "there's the top of the head -- want to see it?" If you get the chance, do it. ... Even now, I find myself in stunned silence just thinking about it. My mind was racing and my voice didn't work. don't freak out, don't freak out, wow that's our baby, don't freak out, look at all that hair, wow that baby really is coming "through there", don't freak out don't freak out, breathe, breathe, and it has hair too! This is about the point in the pregnancy where it becomes a lot more real for the father -- that first glimpse of what is to be.
Wonder...
Some time after that first glimpse of the top of the head, a slippery looking wet baby shoots out (only a man would use the word "shoot", but once a certain threshold is crossed, the baby seemed to me to exit rapidly) -- in any case, it is almost immediately wrapped up in blankets or towels, and set up for mom to hold, even before the umbilical cord is cut. The crying begins; oh those first cries -- for my son, he had such a cry that I'd never heard before, almost bleating -- I really wish I had an audio recording of it. My daughter was a much more normal crying baby sound. No, on second thought, this isn't a normal crying baby sound, this is the sound of a newborn. With a minor ceremony of daddy cutting the umbilical cord, baby is free for mama to hold. This moment, the culmination of well over a year of physical, emotional and interpersonal stress, can only be described as an emotional catharsis. Welling tears, a gentle glance between husband and wife, shared caresses between mother, father, and baby. Our eyes are locked on our new arrival.
In this space, surrounded by a frenetic phalanx of nurses and doctors, blood, sweat, tears, and all manner of medical instruments and medical debris, in this space, at this moment, we are in a bubble, an intimate family bubble and there is nothing else in the room but the 3 of us.
rootie
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2 comments:
Thanks, rootie. Nice to get the man's perspective. I've been meaning to post my birth story - I'll do that this upcoming week.
It really is interesting to see this from the man's perspective. I'm sure my husband can relate to this and I'll make sure he reads this post.
I can relate to a degree, having been watched my kids and husband go through medical procedures, but something tells me this isn't quite the same thing.
And I will reiterate a big THANK YOU from myself and almost every mom I personally know, for NOT saying those things that you had sense enough NOT to say. That's more important than the "You're doing great, honey." If there's anything I hate, it's big needles in my spine. Done it three times and hope never to do anything like that ever ever ever again.
And I'm still post-partum enough to use that as an excuse for crying over your post. It was so sweet. Thanks for writing it.
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