I barely slept that night. There was a mixture of worries and high anticipation going through my mind. I barely noticed the uncomfortable sofa bed I was lying upon in the delivery room. I have been waiting for nearly nine months now and the due date for the birth of my little girl has just expired.
In this nearly dark room, I can see the marks of exhaustion on my wife’s face, accentuated by the drugs she has been receiving that left her lethargic. In this a room filled with beeping machines and nurse interruptions, she slept, I tried not to wake her up.
The nurses and physicians tried their best to reassured us, “the baby is healthy and moving well; however there’s no sign that she is coming out soon.” Contractions were weak and dilation was progressing very slowly. We kept waiting.
The sun rose to open up a brand new day, but the baby refused to leave the maternal womb causing my wife’s blood pressure to rise to unprecedented level. By mid afternoon, the team approached us, a decision has been made: it’s time to remove her from her protective envelop. The room was quickly rearranged and instruments were pulled out. For a few minutes that felt like hours, physicians and nurses worked to bring her out. Finally, a little purple human who looks like a doll emerged and burst into cry. I cut the umbilical cord with the scissors the physician handed me. She is clean, wrapped, and put in my arms. I looked at her little face; she was gazing at me; our eyes crossed each others. At that time I realized, “my life will never be the same.”
Serge Destin, Contributor