Oh My God — It’s a Person!
By: Chris Zimmerman
Tags: Dads, Pregnancy, Just Write It, Midwife, Childbirth

The look of fear

“You’re going to deliver the baby, right?”

It was said as more of a statement than a question. A hopeful assumption that must often get asked of would-be dads in the final stressful moments before liftoff. All I could do was nod, open-mouthed, more focused on what my wife was going through than I could ever be about my fears or excitement of catching a baby on its way out of the womb.

It’s a helpless feeling watching someone you love go through something both painful and amazing at the same time. You want to help, but there isn’t much to do besides try to be encouraging and/or giving space when its needed. I ended up primarily taking a seat on the bench next to our overnight hospital bags — trying to stay out of the way.

For all the talk of dilation diameter and contraction timing, from an outside perspective, it’s hard to know just how close to the big moment you are. But the nurses and midwives have a low-key way of ramping up. You barely notice them moving supplies into position and getting their scrubs on before it’s go-time.

I snapped back into the moment when the midwife came over, still with the full assumption I’d be delivering the baby, to show me how to put on the gloves without touching them. At that point I was committed. There was no going back. My wife was going through the craziest experience of all. I couldn’t call in scared because “it’s gross” or use some lame excuse like that.

As things started to progress, they maneuvered me into position at the foot of the bed. My wife, it must be mentioned, was crushing this entire process. Not only was she focused on pushing out a baby, she was being encouraging towards me as I was standing there watching. To me! I didn’t even have to do anything. That’s a powerful woman right there.

“Stand here. Put your hand here. Don’t touch here. Put your other hand here. Be ready. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you what to do.”

I was in position. I was briefed. I was… crying.

Ok. It’s getting real.

“Are you sure you guys want me to do this??” I kept repeating to the crew of professionals through near-panicked breaths, hands trembling.

Meanwhile, my wife, was actually going through a challenging situation — unmedicated and owning it — and pushing out a baby. Our baby. It was happening. The sheet was pulled up to her knees, the “work area” illuminated by spotlight and she was pushing like crazy. There it was. The head — I guess. (It didn’t look like any head I’d ever seen, but I took the midwife at her word.)

She reiterated where to put/not put my hands and how to catch it. The head came out first, face up. Once that was through the rest seemed to fall right out. And just like that I was holding a slippery, healthy baby girl in my gloved hands.

“Oh my god! It’s a person!” I yelled like an idiot.

I did it.

Just kidding. I didn’t do much. My wife did everything, all I had to do was not fumble the handoff.

A lot of people talk about the miracle of birth and what women go through during that process, but I don’t think you can really appreciate it until you’re standing at the foot of the bed watching it happen. The days of dads hanging out in the lobby (or bar) while their wives give birth is on its way out, and rightfully so.

Men have it easy. The least we can do is be there for our amazing wives and maybe even help deliver a baby.