The Birth of a Baby: Limitations on Manhood and Womanhood

They say every time a baby is born another life is taken in exchange. Sort of like a circle which takes a life to bring a new one into this world.

I would like to thank the man who allowed my son to grace me with his presence. Maurice Daysean was born 8 lbs 2 oz on June 20^th, 2007. On that very same day my life seemed to be graced with its true meaning.

My girlfriend found out she was pregnant late around 2 or 3 months. As an athlete she always had irregular periods so it was kind of like a hit or miss thing. She and I were going through some rough times at that period, but nevertheless we both agreed we were ready for what the Lord had blessed us with.

As it turns out time was more ready than I was. About a week before the baby was due we had a scheduled doctor's visit early morning. With all things going routine I thought I would make it out of there without embracing the pressures of parenthood. My girlfriend was apparently having contractions 2-3 minutes apart and had no physical sign or fatigue from it. She was 9 months pregnant and never faced morning sickness, loss of appetite, mood swings (well I thought so), or even feeling contractions! As with the news the doctor decided she needed to go to the hospital for additional monitoring and he assumed she would berth a baby within the next two days. He couldn't have been any more accurate.

Later that morning we reached our recommended destination. We clocked in at the hospital front desk around 11:30 A.M. We were pushed away in a small room watching television where she was strapped up with monitors and left on a hard hospital bed. Not once did she complain about having to be there or even the pregnancy for that matter.

After about 10 episodes of Law and Order we noticed we had been in this same room for 12 dreadful hours! Being impatient I left the room to go to the front desk to see what we were waiting on. As I opened the door I saw a nurse coming our way to move us into one of the labor rooms. At that moment I tried my hardest to hide my nervousness from the person who I thought needed it the most; my girlfriend. But looking over at her, nothing but confidence and strength covered her character.

We travel down the hall and finally reach a suite labeled LABOR ROOM #3. Walking in took my breathe away due to the 4 times the size of our last cell we were locked in. The room was decorated with fancy equipment and what looked like a comfortable wall-couch and recliner.

Moments later we were greeted by a nice red-headed nurse who had the sweetest voice backed up with a heart of gold. She coached my girlfriend through the up and coming procedures, although the coaching probably helped me more than her. A doctor came in and discussed how he was going to "break her water to help start the labor," which I thought breaking anything at this point wasn't a good idea. As I'm sitting bedside, I see the Doctor reach over to the table of what looked to be a carpenter's desk. Quickly he decided on a snake-like tool to break the water. Without going into detail this doctor suddenly became a plumber. But no flinching or change of expression was to be found on the courageous face of the soon-to-be mother.

I on the other hand was glad I had a solid breakfast with the advice of coworkers taken in the weeks prior. Then the doctor decided that it was time to let nature take its course and allow her to finally get well deserved rest. As she slowly fell asleep around 3 a.m. I curled up on the miniature couch hoping to let sleep take me away.

30 minute nurse visits didn't seem to phase my sleeping beauty although it did tend to keep me awake. This redundant process continued until about 6 a.m. With about 3 hours of actual sleep in the past 2 days the doctors finally decided to have her start the process by pushing.

With every little bit of my manhood grasped between my palms I contained myself through what looked like excoriating pain. At one point in time the doctor stopped and asked her a few questions and she mildly answered back STILL with a sincere smile and tolerance of pain. But I was the one under pressure. She kept her cool during the whole process as I sweat it out holding on for dear life as she continued the process.

A little after an hour Maurice's cry seemed so simple. As my girlfriend lay peacefully on the bed I watch the nurses clean and mend to my son. The doctor suddenly handed me a pair of scissors to cut the umbilical cord as if I did all the hard work. I quickly reached for the scissors. It only took me two tries to cut the life line, but it's understandable for how much pressure I was under.

The nurse handed me my son and we made eye contact. Suddenly I felt a sense of security and a load lifted off of my shoulders. My relationship with my girlfriend was like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. But all of a sudden that missing piece was set into place. I was holding something that was made from apart of me. Millions of thoughts flew through the moments I was graced by the presence of the Angle God had placed in my arms. Still some unanswered, but now it seems as if I'm heading in the right direction to figure them out.

At that point in time after labor I realized how my manhood meant nothing. As strong as I claimed to be and for all the times I felt stronger than women I was quickly washed away with this one. Growing up I always had male heroes like Michael Jordan and other athletic super stars. But Jordan's jumper now doesn't even come close to my girlfriend.