Having an English degree from a decent university means I should probably know the difference between fear and anxiety. Therefore it was probably not ideal that I was pondering their respective definitions sitting quietly in the corner of a room on the labour ward while an excellent midwife carefully explained the induction process to my wife. Eventually I decided that fear means knowing something bad will happen and anxiety is worrying it might. Consequently, it was the source of a great deal of anxiety that I realised what I felt was fear.
Husbands, birth partners, men in the birth room, call us what you will, are not there for the fellow feeling of shared experience. At best we can soothe, support and advocate but what we can never, ever do is speak from experience. It is intriguing, therefore, that so many women choose to be attended by their husband, partner or boyfriend for what is, inescapably, a uniquely female process.
What was clear to me was that was not the moment for such idle wonderings. My one job was to be a pillar of reassurance. But it is hard to sound reassuring when you are frightened. So I had to focus my efforts on transmuting sickening fear into, at most, racing anxiety. This was very hard to achieve because one thing my English degree did equip me to do was to detect and reject a euphemism at 1,000 paces. And the plain English word for induction of labour is force.
Freebirthers will have you believe that labour is an entirely natural process and that medical intervention of any description is an unforgivable interference with nature's way, they would rather give birth on the concourse of Euston Station than in a hospital. Conversely there are some medical professionals who take the view that the only truly safe birth happens on the surgeon's table. Being a man I've always taken the view that it is not really my place to have a view on this debate.
But even with no skin in the game I did not, do not, like induction. It is an oxymoron to say to a pregnant woman: We're going to do this naturally but we're going to force the naturally. You don't need to be a consultant obstetrician, gynaecologist or seasoned midwife to predict that the body's reaction to this is likely to be WTF, at best.
Often induction crops up as a late pregnancy solution. Sometimes, as in our case, it's a result of medical imperative. What that means is 'I'd rather not' doesn't really have anywhere to go. So when the midwife talks gently through the sweep, the gel, the hormone drip, the 'popping' of the waters I realised it would be facetious and inappropriate to ask when the emergency caesarian would take place.
Waiting for life is much like waiting for death. You don't know when the appointed hour will come and so once the door closes on the labour room you can't know whether it is for 3 hours or 3 days. As the man in the equation you are chief spectator and primary witness but, in an ironic finale to the process of conception, you are completely impotent. It is sometimes said that there is no torture worse than seeing one you love in pain and it's reasonable to ponder whether the movement to have husbands and partners present at birth was spearheaded by an emotional sadist.
Or, alternatively, it is a basic blow for equality that if you're going to share in the pleasure you should share too in the pain. And there is definitely no lesson in life that actions have consequences like being present at the arrival of a new one. It would be interesting to know the extent to which witnessing childbirth deters men from doing the dirty on their partners. The cowardice of desertion from a mother and child can only be accentuated by having seen what the mother went through to produce the child.
It is generally considered that it is testosterone that impels some men to do harm and cause pain. But I have wondered whether it is the agony of childbirth that causes most women to balk at the idea of inflicting physical pain. When you have suffered so much to give life who in their right mind wants to deal death?
Anyway, only a man could fritter time in such metaphysical wondering when there are nappies to be changed, a baby to be burped and a push present to be bought. So I will confine myself to saying this; I could not be prouder of my wife or love her more for all that she has endured and my admiration for her. and all those that have borne children, is unbounded.
Mother and child are doing well. Dad will look after himself.
