By Andy Betz
You can plan. You can reason. But, you have to eventually let go.
From the moment her water broke, I was Superman. Everything I knew had to be executed with precision. I had the bag packed. I called the doctor. I had three routes planned for the trip to the hospital. They had a special lot for expectant parents. Perfect.
Then came the flat tire. I kept driving.
Too many red lights. I slowly kept driving.
The first contraction unnerved me but did not stay this courier from the swift completion of my appointed rounds. I kept driving.
The friendly orderly met us at the front with a wheelchair and a smile. Just as planned.
Once I parked, I learned the elevators were inoperative. Time for Plan B.
Three floors with two men carrying 1.5 people is worth the sweat.
All the while, she remains calm.
Gown up, gloved donned, and in I go to see it all.
At this point, no amount of training can prepare one for the inevitable.
Six hours later, I am still chanting this mantra to myself.
My wife looks as if she has been through combat. I have heard her call me names that would make a sailor blush. She has gained the strength of Atlas when gripping my hand. But, she remains focused on the prize.
Fully dilated, four final pushes, resulting in one miracle. For both father and mother, a series of evolutionary chemicals begins their bombardment of brain cells (from stem to frontal lobes) , ensuring the two that all of the decisions leading to this point were correct. The euphoria becomes Nirvana. The duration is fleeting.
Is it worth it?
I need only look at her laying on my wife’s chest to know it is.
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Andy Betz has tutored and taught in excess of 40 years. He lives in 1974, and has been married for 29 years. His works are found everywhere a search engine operates.