One Single Moment

David closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands for just one moment. The midwife was doing her ‘thing’ and David preferred to know as little about the ‘thing’ as possible. It had been such a long time since he had slept, he thought wearily, as his brain presented visions of blankets and pillows invitingly on his closed lids. They had induced Rosie at 8pm and he dared not look again at the clock. The last time he checked, it was 6am, and he was almost sure that had been hours ago. But who was he to complain? Rosie was the one who was doing all the work.

“Good news Rosie, you’re nearly fully dilated and effaced. It’s not time to push yet, but soon.” The midwife was so calm, which was a good sign, he hoped. Rosie nodded, eyes wide, face flushed, a determined set to her expression. She could do this. She was a woman with the most grit and determination that David had ever met, and he was so proud of her.

Eight months ago, the course of their lives had changed, or rather, it had been totally derailed. At a time when they should be exploring their own future together, planning midlife-crisis cruises and couples-getaway holidays, Rosie had done what they had never thought possible. She had conceived. It was their second pregnancy, the first occurred eighteen years earlier, an unplanned teenaged pregnancy. This time it was an unplanned geriatric pregnancy. Oh, to be considered geriatric at thirty-six, but it was true. Because of her age, she was considered in the high-risk group. And because of this risk, David had not had a good night’s sleep in the last eight months.

Usually Rosie was the worrier. She would give herself stomach upsets overthinking issues. What if… was her catch phrase. What if it doesn’t work? What if we can’t afford it? What if we’re making a mistake? But something about this pregnancy seemed to calm her, an almost fatalistic acceptance, and if she worried about anything, David wasn’t aware of it. Instead, he was the one with sleepless worries. He was nearly forty, he would be nearly sixty years old by the time the baby graduated high school. It meant retirement and future plans were pushed out on an indefinite timeline.

Rosie grabbed his hand, and he whipped his head up. She was breathing those soft, open mouth pants the midwife had coached them in. A trickle of sweat rolled down her face, and she moaned, a sound quite feral and animalistic. His Rosie would never make that sound in real life, but this was not real life. The lack of sleep had him unsure of what life this was, but it was certainly an alternate one. However, the half moon gouges in the back of his hand may beg to differ, each crescent imprinted there by an impossible strength.

“Ice!” Rosie demanded, once the wave of pain had eased, her voice desert dry. David leapt into action and carefully scooped the ice chips into her mouth. She collapsed, exhausted, onto the mountain of pillows, but the respite was only momentary, as a new contraction engulfed her and the soft moan gained volume and pitch once more until it ended in a savage cry, almost a scream.

“Breathe…” David coached, focusing his own breath on the open mouth pants they’d been coached in.

“I… am… breathing…!” She hissed at him through clenched teeth. “I can’t… I … just… can’t…”

“You’re doing so good. You can. I’m here, take my hand, breathe with me.”

He was there for her. Always. From the very first time they’d stared in disbelief at the twin lines on the pregnancy test when she was barely eighteen to this moment, about to become parents again in their late thirties. But he’d be lying to say he hadn’t thought about running. He’d never admit it, not to a single soul, not a priest, a therapist or mentor, and certainly not to Rosie.

She had been his rock, getting him through university while she stayed home with their newborn daughter, Allie. Living with his in-laws for that first year was a blessing and a curse. In built assistance and babysitting meant he hadn’t been required to do any of the newborn parenting. They had all agreed that his focus should be on completing the last year of his degree in order to get a full time, well-paying job. But this was a curse too, because they had never forged through those formative parental learning moments as a unit. He had no idea of what to expect in the new parent stage, and there would be no help this time.

“It’s time, Rosie,” the midwife interrupted his train of thought. “On the next contraction, I want you to push. Dad, if you could help support her.”

Supporting Rosie. That’s your role here. Focus on this moment, David, he thought, slipping his arms behind his wife, as she heaved with strain on the next wave of pain.

He thought of all the times when he had woken to find Rosie pacing the floor, gently bouncing Allie, soothing her fretfulness. He’d never even heard the baby cry, yet Rosie was there, dark rings about her eyes, hair a tangled mess, as she dealt with yet another midnight to dawn session of sleeplessness. She’d protected him from that, telling him his studies were important, and he needed his sleep.

“Another big push.” The voice was calm and confidently controlled. David was not. It was getting closer, more real. They were going to have a baby. Funny how the nine months of knowing, and preparing, and gynaecology visits, and birthing classes still didn’t make it real. It was only as he faced the impending birth, knowing that he was moments away from holding this new life in his arms, a new life that Rosie had cradled for this whole time, that he began to panic. There was no turning back! Life would never be the same again. How would he do it? How was he going to balance a newborn and his workload?

After David had established his career, Rosie had been determined to get her degree, even as she juggled a toddler and late night study sessions. She really was amazing, but David would be lying if he said that there weren’t moments that he wished things were different. Moments that he wished for the freedom that his friends had at the time, wished for more time just for the two of them. And this moment, about to become a father for the second time, was the biggest moment to date. In this moment, he was that terrified youth again, wishing for a different life.

Minutes ticked down, blending into what felt like hours, and still Rosie strained, growing weaker and more exhausted with each push. At the end of the bed, a doctor conversed with the midwife, and David could hear the concern in their voices.

“Rosie, I need you to push, love,” he whispered into his wife’s ear, as he rested her head back against his chest.

“I… am!” Her voice was weak. The next wave of pain hit her, and David could feel it ripple through her body as it crested. He felt her shudder as she strained with the effort.

“Yes, that’s it,” the midwife affirmed as Rosie pushed through the next wave of contractions. “O.K. just pant… and…there’s the head, shoulder…one more big push!” With one last concerted effort, a wail filled the room, a newborn cry and Rosie burst into tears.

“You did it, love,” David praised her as he laid a gentle kiss against her cheek. “You are amazing.”

The midwife passed the baby up onto Rosie’s chest, it’s squashed little face nuzzling as it cried blindly.

“Oh, David, it’s a boy! We have a son.”

He had a son. David was not sure how he felt. A future of dreams suddenly overwhelmed him and he stroked a trembling finger down the baby-soft cheek. Sleepless nights, midnight feeds, nappy changes, daycare and school runs, first teeth and wisdom teeth, football, or soccer, dance or drama classes, high school and university, cars and licenses, dates and parties. The future was unlimited, unwieldy, and unpredictable, but David knew one thing for certain in that one single moment. He wanted it all.