I still remember everything about the birth of my first daughter, Felicia, and Corina’s unbelievable, 24-hour labor. I can’t imagine going through what she did. She endured tremendous pain, experienced times when she didn’t know who I was, where she was, or what was going on, but in between all that she and I found time for some very special moments and even a few laughs thinking back to Lamaze class where the leader of the class told me that by holding an ice cube in my hand and squeezing tightly for as long as I can, I would experience the pain Corina would go through in child birth. He was male, and a complete moron.

Anyway, I was present through it all and I say that not because I deserve any credit, but because I was able to witness everything and be as much a part of bringing our daughter into the world as I possibly could. I supported and encouraged Corina, rubbed her back raw (true story, she had the welts and scabs on her lower back to prove it), and kept it together as long as I could, but the minute I cut Felicia’s umbilical cord, I lost control. I couldn’t keep back the tears. I am certain the Doctor slapped me instead of Felicia and when I opened the door to tell my family and friends that Felicia had finally arrived, I couldn’t speak. Nor could I see, hear, eat, breathe, or walk. I was a mess. The Doctor slapped me again.

A day later, we arrived home from the hospital. Now what? It’s 3 AM. Corina is bed-ridden due to the beating she took during delivery and I am staring at a very hungry, and very loud, daughter requesting her late night/early morning snack. I rushed to the kitchen to prepare (read build) her bottle. First I boiled the water. That was to sanitize everything in the house. I even threw our beagle, Mookie, in the pot. I heated the soy milk formula to the appropriate temperature. I knew the temperature was just right because I did that squirt milk on the wrist action, which is as precise as you can get, right?. Next I attempted to attach the plastic, disposable liner to the plastic, disposable liner holder. It seemed so easy at the hospital, but I could not do it in the “comfort” of my own home. Felicia’s amped up demands for weren’t helping matters, nor were my patience, which I must had left back at the hospital along with my brain. So I did what any self-respecting father would do in a similar situation, I ripped the apparatus apart with both hands and chucked it as hard as I could into the kitchen sink all while sending a stream of profanity into the night air that even Felicia’s screams of hunger couldn’t combat. About that time, Corina entered the kitchen with that you-are-so-pathetic-I can’t-believe-I-married-you-and-that-you-are-actually-the-father-of-my-child look. Felicia was fed in a matter of seconds, but the dog was still pissed at me. (just kidding, no dogs were boiled during the making of my daughter’s bottle).

The birth of my second daughter, Kaia, was quite different than than first. The action started when Corina and I went to the hospital soon after her water broke. The midwife checked her out, but Kalia wasn’t quite ready to exit so Corina was told to go to the local pharmacy and take a shot of castor oil and then take a walk in the mall. That would “get things started”. We had heard of the castor oil theory, but thought that it went away about the time the Beatles invaded America, but no, not in Durham, NC. So, we visited the pharmacy and Corina slugged back a shot of castor oil with a root beer chaser. The pharmacist then showed us his wall of fame, which contained pictures of babies whose mothers had taken the castor oil challenge. We promised to come back with a picture of Kalia, but never did. Anyway, after the visit to the pharmacy, I took Corina to walk the mall, but I didn’t plan our escape very well. As we were at the farthest point from the car, Corina went into labor. I couldn’t leave Corina doubled over in the middle of the mall to get the car and didn’t think to ask for help, so I walked her, between contractions, all the way back to the car and away we went speeding to the hospital.

Corina had requested a drug-free child birth experience and had also agreed to employ a couple alternative methods of delivery, which included a jacuzzi-like contraption and a birthing chair. The theory was that use of the jacuzzi would relax Mommy and Mommy’s muscles and allow for a less stressful birthing experience. The birthing chair was to be used instead of the tradition bed. The theory here, for a lack of a better description, was to place Mommy in an optimal position to let gravity aid in the birthing process. If it wasn’t for the fact that my second daughter was about to be born, I would have been able to enjoy the comedy aspect of Corina carrying a 10 pound baby while trying to negotiate her way back and forth between the jacuzzi and the birthing chair, all without the use of any drugs. However, I missed all that until much later. The alternative birthing party ended when Corina demanded that she be placed into a traditional bed and be administered any and every drug the hospital had in its possession. At one point, I told the midwife to go ahead and give Corina something to ease the pain but she refused to do so telling me that Corina would regret giving in at this point. I doubted that Corina would have regretted anything that would have eased the pain and helped her to deliver her child, but unless I was going to physically force the midwife into giving Corina drugs, there were to be no drugs administered. I wrestled with the idea to take her down, but thought that might not be the best move while Corina was in labor and also because the midwife would have probably kicked my ass and what father wants his daughter born into the world with that as her first image. I decided against any assault and instead buried my anger so that I could continue to encourage Corina to keep pushing through the pain. Thankfully, Kalia was born about 3 hours after we entered the hospital. Relatively quick given her size and Corina’s prior experience with Felicia. It was another amazing moment and, once again, I let all the emotions hang out once I cut the cord. This time, though, I slapped the midwife for withholding drugs from Corina. Then I ran.

Thanks for traveling down memory maternity ward with me. I LOVE being a father and in this day and age where people are challenged more than ever to follow their dreams and passions, I am pleased to know that I am already doing so, and have been doing it for almost 17 years. I know Father’s Day is about honoring the Dads, but as you can read from my stories, Moms are pretty important, too, and they definitely deserve more than one day a year where we show our appreciation for them. Thank you Corina for being such a great Mom. I want to also thank Felicia and Kalia for being such wonderful young ladies and making fatherhood the most enjoyable and worthwhile part of my life. They have given me more love and happiness than they will ever know and although I am here to help prepare them for adulthood, I am the one who has been most educated and enlightened.