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Thinking out loud

Thinking out loud

DMITRY, 32 years old, dad of 3.5-year-old Misha

“For me, the question of whether to attend childbirth or not, decided on its own, but this did not happen immediately. In our pregnancy I was surprised at the unwillingness of my spouse to physically prepare for the birth of a child. I wanted to fill this gap.

The choice fell on a foot massage – I did it all the pregnancy to the delight of his wife and, probably, the baby. These actions became a ritual with which I could express my expectation of a child, my love and desire to meet. And it seems that we have established mutual relations with him.

This communication continued further when he began to move in his stomach and it was possible to touch different parts of the small body by touch. And, of course, I no longer had any doubts as to whether to go to birth with my wife: at that moment we had to be all together.

The time that we spent in the family box – 8 or 10 hours – I was there and was thinking about how to help my wife, tried to feel her condition and facilitate the process with my presence. All other sensations and thoughts seemed to be black and white in color cinema.

At some point there was a threat to the baby, and the birth moved to the operating room. Standing in the corridor, I understood that some amazing magic of life was happening, that the one whom we had been waiting for so long would be born, patted his heels from his mother’s belly with such love.

It was both expected and unimaginable. I stood and prayed for the birth to go well. And then the first cry was heard, goose bumps swept over the skin, awareness lingered somewhere, but after a moment it dawned on me that he, my son, was born.

A few more minutes of anxious waiting, spent in some kind of semi-trans condition, and I saw him wrapped in a diaper. I carried my son down the hall to the children’s section and looked at it. I was filled with tenderness and a sense of responsibility for this little life.

And suddenly we met eyes – his look was surprisingly transparent and filled. Suddenly, I understood and felt a few things. First, that through his gaze Eternity is now looking at me.

Secondly, that in my arms is the same person as me, only a small one. And yet, that I love him … “

Thinking out loud

ALEXANDER, 35 years old, Andrei’s father is 8 years old and Anyuta is 3.5 years old

“Interest Ask. I do not know … No, it’s still a strange question.

As if this is one moment some or just a moment during which a certain thought visits. Of course not.

All this lasts a long time, a very long time. First a few months BEFORE giving birth, then a week AFTER the birth of a son, then a month or two of getting used to what HE you have. Or the realization that you have it.

More precisely, we have. Yes, now, after eight years (by the way, this number was not given to me on the move, for some reason the language was “six” … it seems I begin to understand parents who said “how time flies!” … although now I myself the older generation), I can confidently say that the experiences were divided into four periods: pregnancy, childbirth, the birth of a son and the first months with him, like the birth of a new family. Long, very long.

It’s like an exam at the institute – a mad preparation, tension of forces, nerves and brain, and then – once, and that’s all … I passed … And what after? The emptiness remains in the soul, which slowly begins to fill with a new life.

So what did I still think? I do not know, I do not remember … a lot of time has passed.

Apparently, the human brain is designed so that erases negative memories and leaves only pleasant moments in solid memory. So simple: erased the experiences of those years and now obligingly slips the glamor-snotty joys and calves’ tenderness, as the happy-day-old dad smiled sweetly. All this nonsense.

No emotion. This feeling, apparently, will come in full only with the grandchildren. Well, or when we have a third child, and it will again be a girl.

By the way, some really deep sentimental chords sounded in my heart only with the birth of my second child, a daughter, five years after the first-born. At the same time, at least before the birth, my thoughts were purely businesslike and dealt mainly with the expectant mother: I carefully watched her, noticed the changes, compared them with my expectations … Yes, I remembered: the strongest experience after birth, that thought, which is lightning flashed in the brain and still sometimes flashes in my head – this is the realization of how strong a woman can be. I will explain.

Our familiar doctor, a gynecologist-surgeon who took delivery, even during our first pregnancy said that when you attend childbirth, you hear a lot from women in labor … And to my objection that not everything is the case, he only smiled: to another.

On the day my son was born, I rushed to the hospital, as soon as my wife was taken out of the maternity ward. When I saw my wife, yellowish-pale and weak, for the first time in all the time I really had a heart ache.

And I miraculously kept a tear when I heard her words: “I didn’t scold you, I never scolded you. I love you!”

All this – the memories, thoughts and, perhaps, the most powerful experiences of those days. In general, the birth of a child is like an exam, with furious preparation, sleepless nights and the realization that Her Majesty Destiny may appreciate your efforts, but still arrange it in her own way.

Therefore, the fingers are a cross, and a snout in a shoe under the heel … And after the exam – an exciting fear of the unknown and an uncomfortable emptiness in the soul, which slowly and gradually, but surely and inevitably fills the new Life. ”

Thinking out loud

Thinking out loud

ANDREW, 40 years old, Artem’s dad is 10 years old and Denis is 2 years old

“Childbirth is the last act of the play, the main characters of which are not both parents, but only the mother. The husband played the episodic role of the haberdashery seducer long ago, and the rest of the time loosingly wanders through the dark corridors, teasing jokes with unoccupied artists, smokes with the fireman in the toilet, drinks with the workers, and only occasionally looks out from behind the scenes, asking in all appearances: Do you need help?

But the future father, as a rule, is flung out, patting on the back, smiling ambiguously, every word hinting at the insignificance of his participation: dear, do not interfere, you have already done EVERYTHING you could. Sometimes especially desperate guys try to prove that this is not all that they can. They jump out on the prospect, wanting to cut the umbilical cord or at least be present during childbirth and not to miss the climax – bows, applause, flowers.

I involuntarily became a spectator of one such finale – the unlucky hero, seeing the blood, bowing deeply, collapsed without feelings on the tiled floor. Well, he attracted the attention of those present.

The claps on his cheeks were so stormy that they threatened to turn into an ovation, and he spent the rest of the evening sitting on a couch and fanning himself with a bouquet of roses.

Thinking out loud

In general, it is not a secret to anyone that husbands, in the absence of their giving birth to girlfriends, are extremely frivolous. I, on the contrary, approached the birth too responsibly.

Either mad at loneliness, or talking about his worthlessness, in those few days while my wife was in the maternity hospital, I fussed from morning till evening, making a bunch of unnecessary purchases. Just like a crazy starling makes a nest, weaving in the remains of construction debris, so I dragged everything into the house. As I understand now, I had a complex of hypertrophied responsibility.

I remember, I was very afraid.

And here a cot and a stroller were bought, diapers and toys prepared. I walk around the apartment as a supply manager, looking uneasily around the new farm and checking the list, nothing is forgotten.

Finally, they brought their wife from the maternity hospital, kicked out the grandparents fussily moaning, and – lo and behold! – we were left alone: ​​we and he. My wife put her son in my arms and ran into the bathroom, and I sat there, afraid to move, looking at my caricature copy sideways. And then I realized … Responsibility?

As if not so. For the first time in all these years, I felt that finally everything would be fine.

Trying to find something in common between myself and the baby, I caught a relationship not with my son, but with eternity. Everything that worried me until that moment: the future, work, credit for a car – ceased to be significant, lost its primary meaning.

I remember, I was very nervous that the order with which I surrounded myself: even rows of my favorite CDs, measured mode of the day, week – would come to an end. Instead, celluloid toys underfoot, painted wallpaper, candy wrappers in the pockets, in one word – complete chaos.

And so it happened, but, as the sage said, sincerity is the reverse side of arbitrariness. Frustrated by destroying a cozy bachelor boy, the child gave me a lot more – a ticket to paradise.

After several years in everyday worries, I lost a little bit of this blissful feeling, but when our second one was born, it returned to its strength twice and, I hope, finally. ”

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