I gave birth to a baby boy last week. I had a natural birth, and my husband, Owen, was with me throughout the whole process. The pain was intense, and I screamed a lot, as any woman would in such a situation. But each time I did, Owen whispered in my ear, “Can you stop screaming? You’re really embarrassing me.” He repeated it a few times, and each time I grew angrier.
By the time our little baby was placed in my arms, my joy was mingled with a simmering rage. I couldn’t believe Owen had tried to silence me during such a profound and excruciating experience. I decided I would teach him a lesson when we got home.
The ride home from the hospital was silent, filled with the soft coos of our newborn. I was lost in thought, planning my words carefully. But when we arrived home and stepped inside, Owen turned to me with a look I couldn’t quite place.
“It is a woman’s duty to endure pain gracefully,” he said, his tone oddly formal. “I didn’t mean to upset you, but I think you could have handled it better.”
I was stunned by his words. It wasn’t just the condescension but the complete lack of empathy and understanding. How could he, the man who had been with me through every contraction, every push, believe that my pain and my reaction to it were something to be managed for his comfort?
“Owen,” I began, struggling to keep my voice steady, “do you have any idea what childbirth feels like? Do you have any concept of the pain and the fear and the sheer effort it takes to bring a new life into this world?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but I held up a hand to stop him.
“You don’t. And yet, you thought it was appropriate to tell me to be quiet, to not embarrass you. Do you know how that made me feel?”
His face softened slightly, but I wasn’t finished.
“I was scared, Owen. I was in agony. And instead of supporting me, you made me feel ashamed. For what? For expressing pain? For being human?”
“I… I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice finally showing a hint of remorse.
“Well, you did,” I replied, my voice breaking. “And it’s not just about the birth. It’s about our entire relationship. If you think it’s my duty to endure pain gracefully for your comfort, then you don’t understand what partnership means.”
Owen looked down, his face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I really am. I was so focused on my own feelings that I didn’t consider yours. I promise to do better.”
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. “I hope you mean that, Owen. Because being a father means understanding and supporting your family, even in their most vulnerable moments.”
He nodded, his eyes meeting mine with a newfound sincerity. “I do mean it. I want to learn, and I want to be there for you and our son in every way possible.”
We stood there in the quiet of our home, the promise of a new beginning between us. I knew it would take time for the hurt to heal, but his willingness to understand was a start. And as we embarked on this new chapter as parents, I hoped that we could build a partnership based on empathy, respect, and true support.
