A Father's Labor Room Reflections

Navigating the dual role of witness and participant

Jun 28, 2023

It’s been three weeks since I became a father. Being there for my wife as she gave birth was the most emotionally-loaded experience I’ve ever gone through. Happiness, anxiety, excitement, pain, desperation, and joy were all there, competing for their turn.

As I marveled by even the thought of what’s about to happen, I wanted to stay as involved and as helpful as I could. Remain on the sidelines, but jump in whenever needed.

Yet despite reading several books, and thinking I’m ready to put on my helpful partner hat, I now know I had all the knowledge and almost none of the emotional readiness for what took place.

Still, I’d like to think I handled my part pretty well (at least that’s what my wife said). But perhaps sharing several reflections might help other partners in similar situations.

There are plenty of ways how labor could go. When everything goes smoothly, a partner’s role could conclude with just bringing water and changing the music. But whether or not I was ready for it, I got to support my wife through several inductions, epidural, ~30 hours of contractions, and a C-section (if this sounds like gibberish then don’t worry about it, let’s just say it was quite the roller coaster).

Through the entire process, I came to appreciate the number of ways labor could go, and how important the role of an engaged supporting partner could be.

A disclaimer. Everything that follows is a direct result of my individual experience and desire to stay involved throughout the labor process. Other partners might want to take a less active role. Some women might actually prefer it.

Speak up, when needed.

Now, we can start contemplating the ideal role description of a supporting partner. There isn’t one. Sure, you’re there, and you’re needed. But, you’re not the doctor, not the nurse, not the doula. Actually, except you, every single person around has an extremely well-defined role.

That leaves you dancing between all the different roles. You help when needed. But you also exercise judgment (a lot of it) in offering unsolicited advice. And finally, you understand when it’s time to either sit quietly, or make like a tree and leave.

As I tried to balance everything, I kept reminding myself that while all the well-defined roles are present, there’s really only one person who could use my help, and that was my wife.

She didn’t need me to say what I would have done in her position (sometimes positions). She needed me to be her voice whenever she was too overwhelmed to communicate. I wasn’t needed, she was.

While everyone else there knew the best ways to deliver a baby, I was the only one who knew my wife and could tell if she needed further explanations, another minute of rest, or just the occasional distraction.

It’s similar to giving feedback to someone. We often lose sight of what we’re being asked to do. All too often we explain what we would have done differently, when in reality, what the other person needs is for us to help them get to what they want to do.

Watch your story unfold.

As you get older, you hear various labor stories. Some took hours. Others took dozens of them. Some babies were born in Ubers, some in operating rooms, and some in residential bathtubs.

You hear all those stories and wonder what story you will end up telling. That uncertainty is what makes life interesting and exciting (and sometimes terrifying). What I found most difficult throughout everything was that even after X hours of labor I still didn’t know whether our story would end up being 2X, 3X or 5X hours.

That wondering (mixed with just wanting it to be over), required a lot of patience. It’s not like I had another place I wanted to get to. Yet, when someone you love is in pain, your primary hope is for it to end.

And while it did sound obvious at the time, it was reassuring to have the hospital nurse remind us that, in the long run, the number of hours won’t matter, and that the baby is not going to stay inside.

Remember, it’s all natural.

Seeing pregnant women out and about is pretty normal. But, at least for me, what makes it normal is that we don’t really think about the fact that there are babies swimming inside all those bellies.

It’s strange that even after thousands of years of evolution, the notion of an actual baby cooking inside another human being still feels to me like part of a sci-fi movie plot.

I wonder if most women feel differently. Maybe just theoretically knowing what your own body is capable of is enough to make this concept more tangible. Maybe not. Personally, I still found the entire act spectacularly insane.

Throughout life, we use pain to realize our boundaries. Whether it’s putting our hand to a flame or into an electrical socket, pain is a good guide to what we should or shouldn’t do again. When we’re in physical pain, it’s usually because we did something wrong, or there’s something wrong with us.

To stay useful (and sane) during labor, what I found most encouraging was remembering that it was all natural. Sure, at times it was extremely raw and wild, but it was all expected and normal, even the pain.

Navigating these early weeks of fatherhood, I've come to terms with my dual role of both participant and witness in this profound cycle of life.

The dance of roles, the patience needed during labor, and the awe at the almost surreal reality of a new life emerging from another have all been extraordinary.

I hope these reflections, though personal, may offer comfort, guidance, or simply companionship to others as they walk this transformative path.