It was the spring of 2010, and I was set to graduate from university in the coming weeks. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach because there was a big day coming--my son was expected to be born within days. I could not even focus on the university celebrations because university is a small portion of my life, but fatherhood, I thought, was something which would be with me for the rest of my life.
I think my parents could tell that I was not ready. They were calling me on a regular basis, asking how I was, and giving advice where they could squeeze it in the conversation. My partner's parents were not much different. They were very concerned about us, and even moved in with us to ensure we could properly transition into this new phase of life.
A few days later we were on our way to dinner, when my partner felt a strange sensation. "Uh Oh," she said. "What is wrong?" I asked. "The baby is coming," she replied. We quickly made our way to the nearest hospital, and it seemed we were right on the money: the baby was on his way out. After several hours of little activity, my lady started to feel some intense pain. "Do you want some medicine to help with the pain?" the doctor asked. "Yes, she does!" I answered for her. Now, at this point, I was nervous on so many levels.
I was nervous regarding my own self, because I was not sure I was ready to be a father. I was also nervous, however, for my lover and our baby. I wanted the birth to go smoothly for all parties involved. "Are you okay?" I asked my girl for the fifth time. "I am the same as I was the last time you asked," she replied. After an hour of me panicking, the doctor informed us that it was time to try pushing.
The pushing did not last very long, but in my mind time was moving at a snail's pace. I tried to keep my eyes open, but it was not the easiest thing to watch. Out of respect, I stayed the course and encouraged the process. One push after another, my partner pushed the little one out. "One last big push," the doctor said. I started to see a head emerging, and for some reason I was in disbelief. Before, when I could not see the baby, it was if he did not really exist, but now that he was visible to the eye, he was a reality, like gravity. Then, like a flash of lighting, it was finished and Preston was in the world. My heart melted, and my fear was replaced by a stronger emotion, a polar opposite emotion: love.