To be fair, there’s no such thing as a dad’s birth story. I did not carry either Oliver or Margot in my body for 9 months. I did not have countless sleepless nights or painful constipation or the constant need to pee. And I certainly did not have a baby surgically removed through my stomach or pushed from my nether regions. As such, Elisa’s actual birth stories (C-section and VBAC) are much more detailed than mine. All the same, I know that the birth of both of our kids has had a profound impact on me, and I want to share with you my experience of them.
I was scared. Not for most of the pregnancy, no. You see, we’d planned to have a child, so I thought I was prepared. Although I’d initially wanted a girl, having a son had become incredibly exciting. No, I was scared at the hospital. I tend to be an optimist (or, as I like to call it, a realist), while Elisa is a bit, ahem, less optimistic. Leading up to the C-section, which we were advised would be our best option for some medical reasons, Elisa had been worried that something would go wrong, that she’d have to go under general anesthesia, and then she’d never wake up. I, being a realist, shrugged that off and cited some made-up optimistic statistic (the phrase “it is so statistically unlikely” came out of my mouth several times a day). But as Elisa walked down the hall in that hospital gown designed to embarrass people at their most vulnerable moments, it suddenly dawned on me that Elisa’s fear was a possibility. Read More