Part IBeing a Father
I am proud to say that this Monday, I will have been a father for eleven years. That would be eleven years filled with happiness, eleven years of hugging my children, eleven years of kissing my kids goodnight. While eleven years somehow passes in the bl
For those of you who don’t have children - click the back button, surf another page, do something other than read the following. The truth of the matter is that people who have children never want you to know the what the job really entails – It’s a conspiracy, it’s the ultimate false advertising, its your destiny and we want you to become victim so we can laugh at you! Now, don’t misunderstand me, I love my children, love them with each breath I take and until I exhale for the very last time. However, even with this love comes periods of stress, heartache and downright nastiness. Nastiness that could only be imagined, nastiness that make your hairs stand and your stomach curl. Nastiness that could only be known as Parenthood.
Starting from the birth, I can honestly say that you will NEVER look at your wife the same way. You will in fact cease all mentalities that you are the stronger sex, cease all fabrications that you can deal with pain and for once cease all sexual desire for that inviting little tunnel below her navel. Bearing witness to the “birthing procedure” three times in my life I now know that there is a God. No, not because of the miraculous package that was delivered but simply because my knees were able to maintain my weight while watching the show. During this ensemble of nurses, doctors and of course your wife, you are provided a task while in the birthing room. My task initially was to help coach my wife, hold her hand and of course provide encouragement. However after a few moments, you quickly understand that your job is really to endure as much pain as humanly possible while she slowly squeezes all nerve ending from your hands. Your secondary job is to SHUT YOUR MOUTH! Now, no one tells you this, however your understanding quickly evolves after you muttered “my God I think it’s coming out sideways” and she has switched from squeezing your hand off to replacing it with your testicles. Regardless of what anyone says – do not say “I love you” or “your doing great honey” – these actions will result in ongoing profanity, swearing and several references to your penis size being broadcast throughout the hospital wing. While there are no promises hat silence will eliminate this potential threat, you may be rewarded with a simple “I hate you” or “you did this to me you son of a bit@h”
By continuing to have her crush your hand like a vice grip and remaining silent, the doctor will inevitably turn to you and ask if you want to help. Glancing between your wife, the doctor and big birds head destroying everything you ever thought about woman, a few questions enter your mind. Recalling my own thoughts I wondered “will my legs keep functioning” and of course, “can I help having only one useful hand remaining”. Myself included, the brave ones will agree to help out and begin the process of removing your loves kung-fu grip from your now limp lifeless and of course blue hand. Continuing, one cannot help feeling a sense of hesitation as you are presented the foil packed sterile gloves, one cannot help wonder why the doctor has an evil smile and the nurse are breaking out the smelling salts. “Come down here and get ready to support the baby’s head” the doctor says with a smile. “Down there?” is what most men say when placed in this position. “Sure, come on down” motioning as if we somehow became contestants in a game show “the baby sure isn’t coming out up there”. Realizing that by moving between you wife’s legs decreases your chance of a random testicle punch, you quickly maneuver next to the doctor and await your instructions. “Slip your hands under the baby’s arms and when I tell you gently pull down and then lift the baby onto your wife’s stomach”. What? Reach where? “Its gross!” Oops, forgot the second task and spoke! “I mean ummm ahhh” I murmured trying to desperately avoid direct eye contact with my lady. Moving into position I could feel my wife’s eyes burning a hole through my skull, I reached out toward the baby. Slipping my hands under her tiny arms I couldn’t help thinking “thank God for gloves” and slowly slid my child down and out. With a combination of cottage cheese, blood and various goo all combined with latex gloves I can say that babies are dam slippery! Praying to God, the Holy Spirit or anyone else who could have helped I gently flopped my little girl onto my wife’s belly. Carefully, oh so carefully, I looked toward my wife’s face and with a stupid “look what I did grin” asked “are you ok?”. Nodding her approval, I moved to give her a hug and a kiss and how so carefully protecting my testicles!
To be continued…