The Unexpectant Father

In an instance, overwhelming happiness was replaced with panic. My wife and I had just watched the pregnancy test turn positive, and after being overtaken with excitement and tears of joy streaming down my cheeks, I was unexpectedly sideswiped by fear. For years I had dreamed about becoming a father, but I never thought about what that meant. In less than a year, I would find out.

Later that day, I found myself in Barnes and Noble examining the parenting bookshelf and proceeding to gather every book I could find on being an expectant father. Eighty-five dollars poorer, I walked out of the bookstore with four new “roadmaps” on pregnancy and fatherhood. When I got home, I opened the first book and began to read about what I could expect over the next nine months. Phrases like morning sickness, trimesters, gestational diabetes, Braxton Hicks contractions, and mucus plug graced the pages in front of my eyes. The next nine months sounded terrifying and I wasn’t even the one pregnant.

As I laid in bed that night, a million thoughts raced through my head. What kind of father would I be? What if I fail? What does my wife need from me? Little did I know that the worrying didn’t magically stop once the baby is born. I had always taken pride in my preparation for the unknown, but at the time I felt no number of books, message boards or Lamaze classes would prepare me for being a father. As I look back on those days, I now know that fear, concern, and caring are some of the most important traits needed to be a good parent.

Each day into my wife’s pregnancy I learned a little more and became increasingly confident. The books helped prepare me for what my wife was going through and with each new experience during the pregnancy we knew what to expect and how to handle it. Now I realize what Heidi Murkoff and Sharon Mazel were thinking when they aptly named their book What to Expect When You’re Expecting. When the heartburn came, I was waiting with the Tums and Rolaids. As soon as my wife began to toss and turn in bed with Restless Leg Syndrome, I was clicking “Buy Now” on Amazon and ordering a body pillow. With each new pregnancy hurdle that came her way, we were ready, and the fear and doubt slowly started to melt away. Unfortunately, it would not be long until they slowly made their way back into my head.

My wife and I had just got back home from a big steak dinner with her parents. My wife was now almost 42 weeks pregnant (yes 42!) and it took everything in her power to stay awake on the 35-minute drive home from the restaurant. As fast as her head hit the pillow, she was out. An hour after she fell asleep, I found myself in the bathroom preparing for bed. A faint knock came from the door and my wife’s voice calmly stated that her water had broken. It was game time. The fear that had been absent for the last few months came back stronger than ever. The next 15 hours would become the most trying time of my life.

Red lights and stop signs became merely suggestions as I raced towards the hospital. A trip that generally took 15 minutes was cut down to a mere 10. We pulled up to the front door of the emergency room and quickly checked in. Our excitement and anticipation disappeared when we found out that the baby would not be making an appearance in the next couple of hours. At less than three centimeters dilated, contractions more than five minutes apart and the baby had yet to drop, we were informed by the doctor it could be another ten plus hours before we would meet our son. Over the next couple of hours, my wife had an epidural and we slowly got settled into our room. Our son was even kind enough to grant us a few hours of sleep before his arrival.

The doctor came into our room around 6:00 am to check on my wife and the status of the labor. The slow-developing labor quickly took a 180 and fear would make a full-time appearance over the next eight hours. Although my wife was feeling well, the doctor became concerned that the baby had yet to drop. Over the next 60 minutes, my wife was put into numerous positions trying to get the baby to shift and a C-section was looking all but inevitable.

An hour after the doctor came into our room is when it was time to hit the panic button. Contractions were becoming closer and closer and much more painful, yet my son would not budge. Along with the issues faced by my wife, it was time for the doctor’s changeover. At this point, the original doctor suggested to her replacement that a C-section was encouraged. Whether it was bravado, ego or both, the new doctor replied, “not necessary, I will get that thing out of there.” Although I had never been to medical school, I felt this was not standard medical jargon. And without attending medical school, I had to trust the doctor’s judgment. If this course of events wasn’t bad enough, it had been six hours since my wife’s epidural, and with each contraction, the relief provided by the injection was slowly fading away. I watched in horror as I could see the pain overtake my wife’s face while listening to the nurse and anesthesiologist argue on if it was too late for another epidural. The anesthesiologist could see my wife was in pain and recommended the epidural, but the nurse adamantly protested it was too late and this birth was going to proceed without the injection. At some point, the anesthesiologist remembered that he had attended medical school, while the nurse like myself had not and made the ultimate decision by providing my wife with the relief she so desperately needed.

The next six hours would be excruciating for my wife and all I could do is watch as she succumbed to unbearable pain. With one doctor and one nurse attending to five mothers in labor concurrently, a majority of the next six hours of intense labor would be spent with my wife alone. With just the two of us in the room and the contractions becoming closer together and more painful, I feared the unknown. Was the baby ok? Was my wife ok? Questions raced through my head as I tried to simultaneously remove the fear from her mind.

As 1:35 pm approached, my wife gave one last push and my son entered the world. Stress from the delivery took a toll on my son and he was whisked away and examined by the nurses. For that next five seconds, the world stood still. Finally, from the corner of the room came the cry of a baby, and with emotions overflowing, I hugged my wife and we both broke down.