It has been said that nothing can prepare us for
fatherhood. It could have been just another cliché. Another meaningless
tautology spread across an unwise and superficial river of cultural
indoctrination. But it is not. It is very true.
In the last days of pregnancy, I kept thinking
about logistics and how I could help my wife in facilitating the delivery or
what have you. It occupies the worried mind, but to no end. I woke up at 5 am
with my wife saying her water had broken and then I knew. I knew I was going to
be more than who I had been until then. By the end of that final journey, I was
going to see my daughter, I was going to utter the words, I am a father.
The go bag was done, the masks and gloves at the
ready and a towel for my wife to sit on was also part of the scenario of going
to the hospital via black cab for perhaps a sense of false security due to the
separating glass between driver and client. But who knows if it is really safe
or virus free.. but we had to go so, needs must.
We get to the hospital after calling in three or
four times to check if the distance between contractions was short enough to
warrant coming in. We arrive at Labour Ward. We get into the room where my
daughter would come to the world and we wait. And we wait some more. Midwives
coming in, midwives are replaced as per shift. An epidural is scheduled. A
ruthless nurse keeps prodding my wife's vein with a huge needle. She fails, my
wife makes a face. The face of, get her out of here! The nurse backs down and
an anesthetist comes in. First needle in.
Twelve hours after broken waters, the epidural is
given after several attempts and light scoliosis. But it went. As a useless
assistant, I just kept asking if my wife wanted some water because there was no
point in asking how she was feeling. Contractions are now closer together and
still painful. Drugs aren't in effect yet.
Dilation is still below the requirement so, we
wait. I eat snacks and drink the water that my wife forgot to ask. I am
daydreaming about my capability to withstand the birth, momentarily forgetting
that I am not going through anything, my wife is. And she is scared and nervous
and anxious and I am all she knows. So I play it cool and make smiling fake
reassuring faces, even though I know that she is going to be overwhelmed and so
utterly scared in some hours' time.
New midwives come in and tell us their shift ends
at 8 am. So they became our midwives. It was with them that my adventure would
be starting soon. Sumaya and Lisa. Words are not enough. But thank you, really,
thank you and I hoped you enjoyed the box of chocolate we gave you, because who
doesn't love chocolate.?!
1 am. Full dilation. My wife, me and our new best
friends. Push. Push more and keep pushing. Now breath, waiting for the next contraction
and push some more. Baby do you want some water? Ridiculous isn't it? But she
said yes. And I had a function. I was part of it. And push. And even more so.
At this point my wife became my hero, she stopped following guidelines and
advice and just pushed and pushed like someone's life depended on it. And
between guts and blood and stools and fear and pain, I saw my daughter's face.
I could tell she was happy to stay in the womb. She had that expression of,
just what the hell is this? I was sleeping!
She comes out and goes to meet her mother and I was
happy. I was someone else. But it didn't hit me. I was still concerned with
logistics and for my wife's well-being. I was still a protector doing my rounds
and my visual routines to check how she was doing. I heard my baby cry and
still, I was on guard duty. I was still being strong trying hard not to let the
most overwhelming powerful feeling creep in and forever stay inside of
me.
I held on until the maternity ward, some hours
after birth. I was holding my daughter in my arms without my wife in the room
and it was dark and I couldn't see her breathing. Finally, my wife came in and
opened the curtains and I saw it was just me being scared. Me being vulnerable.
And that was it. I cried and I cried from too many things to be able to find a
way to communicate them. I now realised I was relieved. And I didn't have to
hold on anymore. And I let it flow. I saw it come in. I knew what it was.
I can say that this feeling has words like, I love
you, or, I would do anything for you, or, you are the most beautiful thing I
have ever seen. All those are true. But it's more than that. It is a feeling.
One that is beyond the realm of signifiers or collective understanding. I can
say that there is a peaceful handshake between this feeling and this knowing.
They both agree that after last week I am not the same. But the words are not
enough.
