Rachel's Birth

I was standing by my wife’s shoulder. Monitors were beeping. The air was cold.

“Breathe…relax.”

I was a pretty good coach. I thought. This was our sixth.

“Push.”

She grimaced and groaned and strained. A nurse wiped her forehead with a cloth. Her hair was damp with sweat.

“Have you ever done this before?” the doctor asked from his position at the foot of the bed. I realized, slowly, that he was talking to me.

“This is our sixth,” I said proudly, looking down at my wife. I didn’t want to look up at the doctor because there was a large round mirror just over his head. I had been known to get a little queasy.

“Have you ever done This before?” he repeated. I had to look up. I tried very hard to look just at the doctor.

Don’t look in the mirror.

Breathe.

Breathe.

“Come here.”

It felt like a command. It was a command.

“No, that’s okay. She needs my help.”

“Do you need his help?”

Of course she needed my help.

“NO…” she said through gritted teeth.

“What do you mean you don’t…”

“Come here,” he repeated.

I looked down at my wife. She was busy. I shuffled down to the end of the bed in my paper green pajamas.

“Sit here.” A nurse slid a rolling stool under me so I wouldn’t hit the floor. The doctor scooted over and I took his place.

“What do I do?” I was not entirely comfortable with this whole thing. I was paying him a lot of money to do this.

“You ever play baseball?”

“What?” I was in a pretty precarious position and he wanted to talk baseball.

“You’re the catcher.”

“Oh!”

“Push.” I don’t know who said it. Not me. I was holding my breath.

“HARDER!”

“NOW.”

“PUSH. PUSH.”

From somewhere far away, I could hear a scream. Voices. Sounds. Crescendo.

I held out my hands and a slippery baby filled them up.

“It’s a girl.”

A nurse slid her hands under mine. I was relieved. She was very slippery.

The doctor handed me a funny shaped pair of scissors. I cut where he said to cut. The nurse took the baby.

“Well done.”

“Congratulations.”

The doctor and nurses were patting me on the back. I felt like I just caught the winning pitch in the World Series, like I’d done something great.

The nurse laid the baby on my wife’s abdomen. She looked exhausted.

I shuffled around to her side. For a few moments, we didn’t speak.

“You did great, honey.”

The doctor and nurses were doing whatever it is they do with a newborn. I looked down at my wife. She was sweaty and tired, and absolutely beautiful.

“Thanks,” I said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know,” she smiled, as they laid the baby in her arms.