Why women should have best friends and sisters in the delivery room: a three part series

My husband is one of the kindest most nurturing men I have ever known. He is incredible. With that being said, something happens to him in the delivery room. Something unexplainable. He loses all sense. I expected it to be like the videos. You know, wife hunkered over the bed in pain while her husband massages her back, wipes her face with a cold rag, feeds her ice chips……..

If any of your husbands played that part, congrats. Here’s what happened the first time around for us. 

Upon telling my husband it was time to go to the hospital, he had to take a shower. Ok. I get it. I waited. I packed the car with the bags I had packed. I rode to the hospital on a piece of plastic- because, you know, the interior. We got pulled over by a state trooper on the way because he was driving like a lunatic. After all, it was an emergency. He drops me at the front entrance alone, and I walk inside. 

Fast forward to the delivery room. He kept going in and out of the restroom. He made phone calls, checked Facebook, and went back into the restroom. I laid there breathing through my contractions. He made some more phone calls and a few more trips to the restroom. When the nurse came in and told me it was time to push, there was a defining moment for us. My dear husband’s response to the big news was, “not yet! I have to go to the bathroom!”

Silence fell over the room. We were all stricken in disbelief. I sat in the room with a 6lb baby pushing on my uterus and waited for my constipated husband to make one last trip to the restroom. When he reappeared, it was time. The nurse asked him to hold my leg like so. And guess what, he messed it up. His only job. This is where I realized my grave mistake. I had studied for months on who to allow in the delivery room. I landed on that oh so romantic idea of the intimacy of it just being he and I. But I realized at that moment, that I needed my sisters and my best friends. They would have fed me ice chips. They would have rubbed my back. They would have held my leg correctly. But instead, they had to stop at Walgreens to purchase medicine for my husband who was in great distress. 

The baby came. Everything went fine. My dear husband didn’t take a picture of me holding my newborn son. My only record is a picture of my breast and the baby’s head.Go figure.  Afterward, I realized that at no point during the process did my sweet Griff ask if I needed anything or if I was ok. We survived. Our marriage survived. But if I had only been smart enough to have my girls in there, the experience would have been different. 

I would like to say that he did much much better the second time around, but that isn’t completely true. I love him. He is a wonderful man. But I should have had my tribe in that delivery room. Women throughout history have known and done this. I guess I’m a slow learner. Here’s to a good chuckle on a Monday night! Love you ladies. Please stay tuned because part two is even better. 

-note: Griff never saw those sweet videos they show in childbirth class. The only birthing class my hubby offered to attend was the breastfeeding class because he thought………he might get to see some breasts. 

❤️ Shalom
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