The baby's dad was in the delivery room with me and is a great guy and still has a relationship with me because my daughter is currently in Chicago living with him.
That's pretty much it. We split up after just a few years because I was too young to even understand what a huge undertaking having a baby actually is. And I don't mean the delivery room. That is the easy part in comparison to raising up a little being with a mind of her own.
I love her and I'm grateful for her each and every day. I would probably not even know her dad's life at all if it were not for her and I'm glad he is still a really good person.
I'm not a lady, but my children were born at home and I was right there holding her hand. (She almost broke it.) It was fascinating to watch. We took photos of my daughter being born.
He was calm and patient. We were a little freaked out though, because the delivery room doctor was a little, old man who resembled Tim Conway in that sketch on Carol Burnett where he played a little man shuffling his feet. The doctor ended up knocking down a shelving unit, and we both looked at each other in a/an "Oh, no, HE is delivering a baby???" kind of way.
This post was edited by Benedict Arnold at November 19, 2018 12:28 AM MST
He didn't really care and in fact didn't believe that I was in labor. I had actually been in labor all day and worked (I worked for him). While at work, I fell down a flight of stairs on my bum. I finally asked to go to the hospital because I was in pain (my water never broke). By the time we got there, I was 5cm dialated.
I didn't wake him for a long time.....I was scared to death of being in the hospital.....we got to the hospital about 20 minutes before my daughter was born.
My first-born was the only one I went into labor for and I was a teenager. My mom was present. My doctor strong-armed me into pitocin, saying she would leave the hospital and someone else would deliver my son if I didn't accept. I begrudgingly agreed. They told me it would take more than an hour to work. My mom decided to go for a smoke break right after, thinking she had plenty of time. Hard labor started right away and I was totally alone. I didn't call anyone in or tell anyone. I just waited thinking they would come back soon. By the time anyone came back, my son was already crowning and I near delivered him alone; without any medical staff or support present.
I was married when my middle child came, but she was a c-section. We had time to plan and went to the hospital together. My ex was there for the whole thing- he watched the surgery and cut the cord. Thinking back to that, the whole thing seems kind of odd. One of the few happy memories he and I shared. He wasn't overly nervous or anything, but was certainly on edge. He watched her like a hawk. Followed her everywhere as they saw to her. He was very organized about the whole thing. Gosh. Such different times. I remember thinking at that moment how glad I was that he was there and looking out for her; how lucky we were to have him. His personality shifted shortly after we brought her home. I'm sure he'd say the same of me. On delivery day, he was great, though.
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