Even some 15 years ago, the very phrase “partner childbirth” in our country could only cause bewilderment. And now it is the norm. Both stars and ordinary people give birth together. But is this trend really so unambiguous?
Once, having cut himself while shaving, the husband said in his hearts: “Better to give birth once than to shave all your life!” I just took my breath away from indignation! By that time, our first child was two months old, and I still had fresh in my memory both hours of exhausting labor and painful healing of postpartum stitches. “You know, honey, when we are going to become parents for the second time, you will give birth with me,” I said resolutely. “Then let’s see how much more tiring shaving every day than childbirth.” “Yes Easy!” – the husband shrugged his shoulders. He said – and immediately forgot about it. But I remember something!
Four years later, the test showed two stripes. It was then that I reminded the faithful of his so easily given promise. “Are you sure you need this?” He asked cautiously. “Absolutely! – I snapped. – Since we shared the joy of conception together, let’s share the hardships of childbirth. You, of course, will not share anything, but at least you will understand how difficult it is. Maybe you won’t compare giving birth to shaving anymore. ”
In preparation for this important event, we attended classes on good behavior during childbirth together. I cannot say that my husband went there with interest, but rather out of a sense of solidarity. Well, in general, “the man said – the man did.”
And then the day came when I, wise by the experience of the first childbirth, realized: it’s time. For a couple of hours, I listened to my feelings and tried to figure out whether to call my husband right now or wait for him to bring his son from kindergarten. The intensity of the contractions grew very moderately, so I slowly collected the necessary things in the maternity hospital and agreed with my friend that the child would spend the night with her today. It was already clear where the husband would spend the night: in the hospital.
Literally from the doorway, hearing that it was time for us, the spouse began frantically to dial the ambulance number. He didn’t even want to hear about going to the hospital in his car. “What are you doing! He waved his phone. – What if you get caught in the car, what am I going to do? My hands are shaking anyway! “
It seems that the husband did not believe until the last that he would be present at childbirth.
I clearly felt his distinct nervous trembling when we were driving in the ambulance and he was holding my hand. At the same time, my pulse did not go beyond the normal range: I initially imagined what was ahead of me. Because my birth was the second, and my husband had the first.
In the admission office of the maternity hospital, while the things were being handed over and the necessary documents were drawn up, the faithful seemed to be speechless. An elderly nurse who was busy with my papers periodically glanced at him with undisguised interest. “Well, my dear, let’s do the necessary hygiene procedures! – she winked at me, having finished the clerical formalities. “And you, young man, will sit here for a while, and then I will take you to the ward with my wife.”
Coming out of the procedural room after the “hygienic procedure” and mentally thanking the nurse who so delicately called the forced bowel cleansing, I stumbled over the aloof look of her husband. He sat with his back against the wall, his complexion mingling with her light green. Irritation began to build up in me: wow, moral support – sitting as if before being sent to the scaffold, that look into a swoon.
The nurse, without ceasing to smile, escorted us to the prepared prenatal ward. The furnishings in it were not at all homey: tiled walls, a bed, a bedside table, two chairs. The husband, whose hospital interior traditionally caused panic horror, generally fell into a stupor: he sat down on a chair and froze in a tense position, clearly not knowing what to do in this situation.
At that moment I was not at all up to his experiences: the contractions intensified and became more frequent. Lying was unbearable, and I, holding on to my lower back, began to pace the room in different directions. “Maybe you’d better lie down? – the husband asked timidly, who, apparently, was tired of my throwing. – What if you give birth on the go?
To listen to frank nonsense at the moment when your whole being is simply screaming in pain – such angelic patience, alas, is not given to me. “Shut up, please!” – through a restrained groan I asked, without stopping the movement. My husband looked at me as if I was an alien: any trifling ailment like a temperature of 37,2 immediately knocks him down, and then a pregnant woman in agony jumps around the ward.
The midwife dropped by: “Come on, honey, let’s check how we are doing there.” I had to lie down so that she could assess the readiness of the birth canal for the final stage of the process. “Oh, it’s up to the little! The midwife announced happily. – Now we will pierce the amniotic fluid – and you will quickly give birth. The husband, hearing this, grabbed the headboard. “What are we going to pierce? What for?” He asked barely audibly.
Everything that was taught in the courses, Oleg forgot
“We will pierce the amniotic sac so that the water will move away,” the woman explained condescendingly.
“Can’t this be avoided?” – his voice was full of unknown horror. For a person who could not even stand an injection in the dentist’s office, the midwife’s intentions sounded like an invitation to the electric chair.
“Why should she prolong the torment? – the doctor was surprised. – The water will go away – she will give birth right there. The disclosure is already complete. “
For my semi-voluntary assistant, such details were too much. “I’ll go to the cooler in the corridor and have some water. Can I bring you? ” – he asked. “Oh, go already, drink and don’t come in until I call you,” I moaned. Even the consciousness, clouded with pain, signaled that he did not need to see this procedure. The husband rushed out of the room with the air of being released early under an unscheduled amnesty.
After the water had receded as a result of the manipulation, the approach of the junction became obvious: after a few minutes, attempts began. The spouse, apparently, all this time has drained the cooler to the bottom.
“Oleg! – I screamed, and it was my only cry for all the time of birth pangs. – Call the midwife soon, I’m giving birth! “
I heard my husband rushing noisily along the corridor with a heart-rending cry: “Help!” Literally a minute later, a nurse with a gurney appeared on the threshold, from behind whom the spouse’s overturned face was whitening. “Come on, man, help me put her on the gurney – we’ll take her to the hospital,” the paramedic ordered decisively. “You don’t have to load me, I’ll climb in,” I stammered, holding my breath to control my push. While awkwardly loaded onto the gurney, my husband fussed around, ready to pick me up if I rolled off her.
And then – a short sprint on a gurney along the corridor, the dazzling white light of the delivery room, a rapid transfer to the delivery chair – and this is what my body has been preparing for for nine months. “Hold your breath! The midwife shouts. – You will tear yourself now! ” But it is no longer possible to control the push, and I hear the crackle of my own tearing flesh as the baby squeezes out. A few more seconds, and a much more pleasant sound is heard – the first cry of my son. “Well, hello, hero! – the midwife happily greets him. – Guy, what you need, now we will weigh, measure and let daddy hold it. And then we’ll take care of your mother, we need to darn her. “
In the end, there was no help from her husband
Exhausted, but happy (finally, almost everything except the seams is behind!), I watch the midwife fussing around my baby. For the second time in my life I experience this miracle and understand that it is impossible to get used to the emergence of a new life. Literally just now, my boy and I were one whole – and now this is an independent person whom I have to raise and release into life. God, how much love and tenderness is concentrated in this little lump! Then I wonder where the father of my child is. “Crying in the hallway,” the midwife informs me quietly. – You have a very impressionable man! As soon as I saw that I had accepted the guy, I jumped out in tears. Now I’ll finish with the child and call him. “
Then everything is like in a dream – terrible fatigue affects: the husband holding the baby wrapped in a diaper, his stunned eyes and a choked voice: “Thank you for your son, darling! Well done!” Then the child is taken away from her husband and sent out the door: it’s time to sew up the gaps. An injection into a vein – and my consciousness covers the space of shallow anesthesia.
… I come to myself already in the ward. Postpartum discomfort is, of course, nothing compared to the feeling that the main thing is behind. The nurse says that everything is fine with me: the child was born of classical parameters and absolutely healthy, and as for me, “everything heals quickly on a woman, like on a cat”. I wonder where my husband is. He says that immediately after holding his son in his arms, he called a taxi and went home.
I lie there and contemplate what a partner birth has given me. And I come to the conclusion that, giving birth for the first time without the presence of her husband, I felt much more comfortable in all respects – both psychologically and physiologically. After all, I did not feel his support as such, on the contrary, I was irritated because of the inadequate, from my point of view, reaction to what was happening. For some reason, I remembered a video posted on the network by a shocking showman, how his wife gives birth, and at this time he sings the hymn of life and love at her feet. Probably, his wife has strong nerves (after all, a skater and a champion), because she suffers – and smiles at him encouragingly. With my anti-stress training, everything is much worse, so the most predictable reaction to such “support” would be a spontaneous heel blow to the forehead of the performer. Anyway, in my understanding, songs between the legs of a woman in labor is a clinical case. And partner childbirth is a facilitated form of clinical pathology. The sacrament of birth should remain a secret for a man! And if I am destined to survive the agony of childbirth at least once, I certainly do not need my husband’s support at this moment.
As it turned out a little later, my husband and I are in solidarity on this issue. “You know, my joke about shaving was originally idiotic,” he admitted when we discussed the birth of our second son. – And I went to childbirth with you not at all in order to make sure that giving birth is easier than shaving. Since it was important to you, then it was necessary. But you cannot imagine how hard it is, seeing the torment of a beloved woman, to understand that you cannot help her in any way. Moreover, indirectly feel guilty at the same time. Of course, the birth of your own child in front of your eyes is the most powerful impression that I have experienced in my entire life. But the feeling of its complete uselessness in this process was also postponed. Therefore, if one day we mature for a daughter, I will hardly dare to repeat this experience. “
As for my daughter, I don’t even know: perhaps two boys will be enough for me, despite the great desire to braid pigtails and tie bows. But if my boys, having become adults, express a desire to be present at childbirth, I will present my arguments in this regard to them. Because my life experience testifies: by no means in all cases it is important for a woman to feel a strong man’s shoulder next to her.