These next couple of posts are mainly to exercise some catharsis, to share some reflections on my family’s stay at the hospital leading up to the birth of my daughter.

To say that I was surprised when my wife woke me up late on January 11th to say that she was going into labor wouldn’t quite be correct. I wasn’t surprised, I mean I knew that eventually the baby would have to come out. So not surprised…

But panicked. I think that’s the best word to describe it.

Also because I think “sheer terror” comes off a little too melodramatic.

When I drove my wife to the hospital, it was snowing and the freeway and roads had iced over. And the whole way I just thought, “Dear God, please give me the ability to weather this storm and drive carefully, because if we spin out and I have to deliver this baby in the car, I might just throw up everywhere and pass out.”

When we finally arrived at the hospital I took my wife’s hand and led her to the emergency entrance. I think the one thing that will stay with me most, apart from actually watching my child born, is just how unprepared I felt, and how obvious it was to everyone we interacted with.

I’ve always prided myself of being somewhat eloquent and articulate, but when I walked up to the desk to check us in, all I could choke out when the nurse raised her head was, “Uhhh…dude, I think my wife’s about to give birth…”

At least I can take solace that what I said was probably one of the more level-headed, and considerably less vulgar, ways to tell the nurse my wife was going into active labor.

The hospital we went to was incredibly nice. The staff was absolutely wonderful, and I am so grateful that they did their best to make my wife feel as comfortable as she could be made to feel.

I’ve only been inside a hospital a handful of times. I went in once for myself, and a few times for my brother, so I didn’t really know how hospitals worked, let alone how a labor and delivery stay goes. They asked a lot of questions. My favorite ones were, “Do you live in an abusive household?” To which my wife responded with, “Well, even if I did do you think I would tell you when the man abusing me is right here in the room with us?” and “Have you had any feelings of hurting yourself and anyone else during your pregnancy?” My wife said, “Are you kidding? Have you ever been pregnantv?? I feel like hurting someone everyday!”

This whole pregnancy and delivery was an entirely new learning experience for me. For instance, I always thought that once you checked in you were there until the baby was born. I had no idea all the questions and the monitoring they did to track my wife’s progress.

Or that they would kick us out when she didn’t progress enough.

Well, maybe that’s a little strong, but that’s how it felt. When after an hour my wife didn’t dialate past 3 cm, they told us to go home and come back. My wife cried. Shit, I cried. How could you not? The feeling of helplessness, like you’ve been abandoned. I’m supposed to be the strong one, now how do I console my wife when I not only feel vulnerable, but she can see it?

Driving us home, I couldn’t help but feel like I let my wife down. Was there anything I could have done or said differently to make the nurse keep us there? Did I act like a good husband to my wife letting them discharge us? In the back of my mind, I knew that what happened was something out of our control, but these thoughts nagged an ate away at me still.

Before we left, we were told to try to get some sleep. I asked the nurse, “Are you fucking kidding me?” Not to be rude, but I mean…how could you sleep knowing your baby was going to be born at any moment now?? When we got home, we didn’t sleep. We both layed there, pretending to sleep, praying that the morning would come, and with it another chance to be admitted to the hospital.

We went back the next day when my wife’s labor pains became too intense for her to stand. I swear, after watching everything she went through, I know now that if the fate of our species depended on the men to take the pain and bear the children, we would have died off long ago.

They began to monitor my wife again. After an hour, still no change. The nurse prepared the discharge papers, again, but thank God Almighty for the on call doctor. He told us to walk around the maternity ward, and take a hot shower.

After an hour, the doctor checked and told the nurse to admit us as patients.