I was listening to three young sportscasters (under 30) discussing athletes not going to games or leaving midway - specifically including the Super Bowl - in order to be present with their wife for the birth of a child. To a man they were all outraged that anyone would even question that this was the right thing to do.
Our first son was born at Concord Hospital in 1979 even though it was only third-closest to us because they were the only one that allowed husbands in the delivery room. Not boyfriends, by the way. The others had policies which forbade it. Things were in flux, and by the time Ben was born in 1983, you could bring whoever you wanted into the delivery room. I exaggerate, but close.
But before that the husband waited in a lobby downstairs, waiting until someone came and told him that they were now the father to a daughter or son. Some obstetricians liked to be the star, and would not allow a nurse to break the news. You waited until the great god doctor had finished cleaning up and changed some clothes, and came down to tell you. Nor could you join your wife even then, not until she made it from the delivery room to the recovery room to her hospital room. If things shook out correctly, the baby might be ready first, in one of those rooms with rows of unmarked cribs. You stood on the other side of the glass and waited until the nurse picked one up and indicated it was yours. Then the other fathers standing there congratulated you and everyone exchanged cigars.
It's a nice emotional moment, and I was glad to share it with my wife. I was also the labor coach, who had rehearsed with her for s few months beforehand, squeezing her arm and saying "contraction begins." Lamaze method the first time, Bradley the second.
But really, anyone could do it: a friend who had delivered a child of her own, a mother or sister. My contribution was minimal, because labor is, well, laborious, and the delivering mother is focused on some pretty intense stuff and tracking whether there is anything going even a little wrong. Tender moments need not apply until after the work is over.
For this reason I think the need for the Very Important Dad to be present is largely symbolic, and confess I have wondered if perhaps he, um, needs to plant a flag about how supportive he is because of previous conduct. Suspicious of me, I know.
Women saying "It's okay honey, you go do your job and then get here when you can" is not going to be enough. Not for a symbolic gesture that had no real practical purpose anyway. The mother is going to have to say "Get that sonofabitch out of here! Get him AWAY!" to have the desired effect.
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I tried to convince my wife that I should be down at the pub waiting on word, with a pocket full of cigars to distribute in the old fashion. She was not having it, and I ended up right there for the whole thing.
I was there for both my daughters and held the second girl before her mother.
I doubt it was allowed when my first two were born, but my husband probably would not have dared even if it was. I don't remember exactly what happened. Apparently, I bit him in the labor room. I do remember that his hand was bandaged the next day.
I had the impression there was an element of punishment to requiring the father be there. "You were there at the start, you damn well better be there at the finish and see what you're putting her through." No one ever said anything like that to me, and I might be picking it up from media more than anything else.
I do remember that, in the end, I was to tired to feel anything. It was a long labor, I rubbed her back when asked, and eventually we had to go for a Caesarian. I watching them pull a baby out of a neat, square pool of blood in a gauze surface, then they really wanted me to look at the placenta for (I suspect) legal reasons (to prove they didn't leave it in, or something). Whee.
Yeah, placentas were very big with that group - like you'd be just fascinated. There was a run on using them to plant a tree in honor of your child nearby, as fertiliser.
Placentophagy. It's a thing, apparently. As usual with strange ideas, the internet has had a hand in spreading the idea.
https://www.sciencealert.com/eating-your-own-placenta-may-put-your-newborn-at-risk-says-cdc
I remembered that but refrained from mentioning it. Better to have one of you do it.
Too close to cannibalism.
I'm more interested in the fact that some people are convinced by specious arguments to do kooky things.
It contains proteins, etc... Well, those would be denatured by cooking, wouldn't they? And why not pop a multivitamin and eat a steak instead? I have no problem eating rare beef, but human flesh is different. For one thing, raw human flesh is more likely to infect me with something than raw tuna (which I also don't eat.)
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