My Life as a Father
Part 1
Before our daughter was born, I did not comprehend the true meaning of father. I had no idea what I was getting into, nor did I have any feelings to go along with the notion. As my wife, Emmanuelle, went into labor and the notion was becoming more realistic, I could only think about how magical the parenthood bond was between us. We had always worked well as a team, and now we were bringing a new life upon the Earth together (although I must admit she did most of the work). As Emmanuelle was pushing our stubborn newborn into this world, we held hands. Our loving parental and spiritual bond was engraved in stone. Alexia was born.
Tears trickled down my awestruck face as Emmanuelle put her hands under our newborn's arms and pulled her out of life's protective womb. Sublimity and beauty enlightened my heart as my daughter was in the outside world, yet she was still connected to the womb that nourished her. A final tear made its way through my inner depths as the connection was cut. All of life's secrets were lost when Alexia cried out for the first time.
My heart swayed and my spirit soared as she was gently placed upon Emmanuelle's heaving chest. Mother and daughter had made their foremost bond. I stood there admiring that tender moment, one which will remain deeply embedded in my soul as long as it has Life in it. Parenthood had begun....
Fatherhood began as I was caressing Alexia's reddish purple body with warm soapy water. It was her first bath and I was nominated to take part. At first I thought she was so beautiful, so fragile, that I did not want to hurt her soft body. Nurses laughed as I was fumbling with a diaper, trying to put it on without ripping a leg or arm off. Alexia did not even cry. Looking through deep blue, blurry eyes, it seemed as though she was questioning my fatherly skills throughout the tense endeavor.
Three thousand diaper changes and six hundred baths later, my little girl no longer questions my skills. Now the name of the game is: "How fast can we give her a bath, wrap a diaper around her waist, and put her clothes on before she wails and flails her arms and legs around?"
Apart from those ugly, cranky moments, fatherhood has profoundly changed my life. I have learned responsibility. I have become a little more confident as a man. I am not afraid to show my femininity as a father, nor am I afraid to nurture and take care of my daughter. Most of all, I do not fear showing my love for her. Recollections of her first steps, her first words, her first hug and kiss, and her first song and dance will forever be part of me and Emmanuelle. Those magnificent shared moments have only strengthened the love we share with one another and they have led us to the next step up life's ladder...putting life's secrets into motion once again!
Part 2
"Let's have another one", my wife asked lovingly. "I think we should wait and enjoy our daughter a little bit more before we embark on another perilous journey", I replied (taken aback). "But I am getting old (same excuse she used for the first baby) and the age difference is perfect", Eager Mother pleaded. "Let me think about it a little", I answered trying to stall for time, although I knew it was futile.
Three months later, my wife became pregnant with our second daughter. Reality suddenly hit me like a cold, frigid wind. Nine more months before we go back to sleepless nights, diapers, bottles, and spit-up.
After a couple of scares during my wife's pregnancy, I found myself becoming more and more attached to the idea of being a father-of-two. It was as though Life had a calling for me that had to be fulfilled, one that required years of endurance, patience, and guidance. Here we go again....
The birth could not have been written any better in a screenplay. My wife had had a routine checkup on June 12, 2001 at 10:30 AM, so she had already taken the bus to the maternity hospital located in our district in Paris. After being examined, the doctor told her that she was going to deliver within the next 24 hours. All of a sudden, her contractions started occurring every 5 minutes and her doctor decided to have her go straight to the delivery room. Meanwhile....
The second-time-around-father-to-be was about one hour away in the suburb of Paris. Running and taking the commuter train were the only options available at the time. What generally takes an hour only took a miraculous 45 minutes (including the time it took to get the suitcases at home and run to the hospital). Panting, in a sweaty fury, the trip to the third floor in the hospital elevator seemed like an eternity.
Five hours later, my second daughter was born. The birth was just as magical and miraculous as the first time around. As the midwife positioned her head and removed her shoulder from the womb, I suddenly realized that now we were going to be a real, complete family. As my wife struggled to push one last time with all her might, the baby let out a cry. Whimpering on her mother's chest, she opened her glazed eyes and looked at me. Our bond had been established. My role as a father had been reaffirmed.
Written
by Terry Kaufman