The
night that James was born was by far the scariest night of my life.
We
had already spent about twenty-two hours in the delivery room, and Jess’ water
had broken about four hours before that. Now, I don’t know how much y’all know
about pregnancy—though I am assuming most of the women here know it on a much
more intimate level than I ever could—but when the mom-to-be’s water breaks,
there is only supposed to be a twenty-four hour window for the baby to born.
With the absence of the protective water sac, the risk of infection for the
baby grows immensely.
And
after 26 hours of labor, Jess was not progressing. We both already knew why the
mid-wife was coming in to talk to us, but that did little to truly prepare
either of us for what she had to say.
The
baby had to come out, and he had to come out now. It was time for a caesarean
section.
I
was stunned, and did not know what to say or do. I have to give Jess a lot of
credit, though, because even in the midst of this revelation, she stayed
focused and stayed strong. The doctor came in and told us what would happen,
and then they began preparations. I was given a set of paper scrubs to wear,
and I was so nervous that I actually tore the shirt and one of the shoe-covers
trying to get it on. It was basically a t-shirt and a sock for my shoe, but I
was so freaked out that I couldn’t remember how to put either on.
Finally,
it was time to go into the operating room. In what was easily the brightest and
whitest room I have ever seen, the doctors and nurses were gathering around
Jess. A partition had been set up at her neck, and I was moved to a stool next
to her head. As the final preparations were being made, I talked to my wife and
tried to comfort her. The surgeon began his work, and in what seemed both like
mere moments and also an eternity, a cry erupted from behind the curtain. One
of the nurses lowered the partition enough for the doctor to show us our son.
He was crying as loud as his little lungs would allow him, and he was filthy
with afterbirth, and he had the angriest look I’ve ever seen on that tiny
little face.
And
he was beautiful.
The
nurses took him over, cleaned him up, and then brought him over to me. I held
him close and just looked at him. After all of the stress and fright from the
past 27 hours—not to mention the past nine months—he was here. I can honestly
say I had never loved anyone as much as I did in that moment, and I have never
been happier in my entire life.
Now,
James did nothing to earn my love, and he did nothing to elicit those emotions
from me. He did absolutely no work in the birthing process; all of that credit
goes to Jessica and the medical staff. But when I looked at him that night,
there in the OR, I knew that I would always love him, and that he would always
be a source of joy in my life.
He
didn’t have to earn it. He is my son, and it is his birthright to be loved by
his father.
