I Watched My Own Son Being Born
I have to admit the experience changes how I see things. I used to think I wasn’t afraid of anything.
Oh, how wrong I was.
Photo by Omar Lopez on Unsplash
On the morning of 30th August, my wife was due for a routine check up. To our unpleasant surprise, my wife told me she had minor bleeding.
We had pregnancy's complications before and we lost a child in its first trimester, and we were worried if it will happen again.
We rushed to the hospital and had her admitted as soon as possible.
A few days after long examination and days of sleepless nights, I was there in the labor room with my wife.
It’s nothing like how the TVs and the movies portray. I wished it was all that.
But this is real life. And to be honest, it’s ugly.
It’s filled with panic and loud voices and groanings. The wall and the floor looked like they were there for more than 50 years, and could fall apart at any moment. Although its clean.
But I couldn't care less, because at that moment in time it’s beautiful, as everything that me and my wife worked to preserve our whole marriage is for that very moment in that room that is filled with noises and blipping of unknown machines.
Photo by Marcelo Leal on Unsplash
As I was sitting at the side, I couldn’t help but think of how amazing the doctors and the nurses at that moment as I wasn’t able to think of anything else. I could feel that my brain was “empty". My brain is usually filled with lots of ideas and noises and decisions to make. But that particular day, the safety of both my wife and my son is all I could think of.
The rest, well, suffice to say, my brain cells goes on holiday break.
I have never seen my wife in so much pain that it throbs my heart. I can feel it stopped when her face changed to being pale, before turning red again a few seconds after. “One last push!” said the nurse to my wife’s right side, followed by the sound of a small cry.
My wife sighed a relief voice, and there right there I knew everything is going to be okay.
Nothing scares me in this world, and I can say for certain that I am not afraid of my own death. When it happen, it’ll happen. I thought I was a rock steady person until I saw my wife try to push a life out of her. My knees grow weaker by the minute, and tears come out of my eye the moment I see my son and hear him cry for the first time.
I know that it’s a tear of relief and happy at the same time. There is no other feeling that could ever resemble that moment. It was truly precious for me, perhaps even more to my wife. My son is the new addition to our small family, and we could not be happier.
Of course what follows are another stretch of sleepless night tending to my son’s need and sickness scares. But that’s another story for another day.
Photo by Marek Studzinski on Unsplash
Our long 9 months waiting for his arrival has ended that day. A moment of panic ensued my head, “What do I do??” Hit me like a truck. Hoo boy, I really wish there’s someone I could ask what to do at that moment. If this was a sitcom, I would be literally talking to myself like a deranged person.
I could only bear witness. That is much I allowed myself to do aside from breathing.
When the doctor placed my son on top of my wife’s chest, is the image that is forever instilled into my brain as the most beautiful moment I have ever witness my entire life.
I have no idea how to picture “Miracle of Life" nor do I know if one ever exist. If there is one, that image is what describe it.
Although my knee hasn’t recovered from weakness. I was asked to leave the room a few moments after.
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
No one can ever take away that memory from me. Seeing my small little son being born into this world is something that I hope everyone who wants to be a father could experience.
I can guarantee you this, there are no stories in this world can describe how it felt in that room when your significant other is trying to push a life out of her. It does not matter of how good of a story teller you are. And I will take that to my grave.
Not even myself as a witness is able to describe my feelings at that moment. I wish I could, but I think that the memory is best preserved in a mental image. After all, an image is worth a thousand stories, no?
But I do know what’s for certain is that this little fella will now become a new addition to my motivation of why I do what I do.
As a writer, who and what are your motivations to keep you going? Feel free to share in the comment section.
Thanks for taking your time to read this writing.
I’ll see you in the next one. Cheers :D
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