How Men Give Birth to Babies
When I was in my early twenties I thought about love constantly. And, I thought I had it pretty well figured out … I thought I had a lot of things figured out. Like most people, I got some things right and some things wrong.
I probably got more things wrong than right. But I was young and just figuring things out. Besides we’re all always immeasurably more ignorant than we are knowledgeable … so there. Like many other men, I thought I might have to split my love between my child and spouse
You see, I’ve always wanted to be a dad; however, I wanted a life partner, a lover, even more. In the countless hours I spent contemplating romantic love I thought I’d stumbled upon a great quandary. It was that maybe having a child would distract from my love for my wife. That my love for her would be less, because I’d have to share it with the baby.
It seemed to make enough sense, as if you could only give so much love. As if love was a glass full until you tried to fill up another glass.
A few months before my 30th birthday, it became apparent how wrong I was.
On August 16th, 2013 Deb, my partner, came into the bedroom and gently woke me up. She wasn’t sure if this was the big day, but she felt like it might be. She was having contractions, and seeing as this was her first birth, she wasn’t entirely sure if they were Braxton Hicks or the real deal. They were the real deal!
And 18 hours later, my sweet little daughter was born: Samantha Rose Sarma.
How Men Give Birth
That day, I learned a new level of love that I had never known before. Though I shared in Deb’s pain I did not hurt. There wasn’t time for that, nor room in me for those feelings. I was just there for her, helping her throughout the entire day.
As I supported and gave, I realized that I had never seen someone be so strong and courageous as she was that day. What love. I had never loved her so much. And I have always loved her with that rare and deep love that not everyone gets to share with another.
Every contraction was an act of courage and every push a birth we shared.
I cried the first time I saw my baby
And who doesn’t? She was perfect. The love of my life had laboured all day to bring her out.
Though much could be said about what happened that day, when I recess in the quiet of thought, for me it was a day about love and support. It wasn’t a day about what I needed or felt. And that didn’t matter (at all). In fact, I think that’s part of what made it beautiful.