Last week, I had the incredible experience of giving birth to a baby boy. It was a natural birth, and my husband Owen was by my side the entire time. The pain was intense, and like any woman in that situation, I couldn’t help but scream. But every time I did, Owen would whisper in my ear, “Can you stop screaming? You’re really embarrassing me.” He said it multiple times, and each time it made me angrier.
When our precious baby was finally placed in my arms, I was overjoyed but also simmering with rage. How could Owen have tried to silence me during such a profound and excruciating experience? I knew I had to teach him a lesson when we got home.
The ride home from the hospital was quiet, filled with the coos of our newborn. I was lost in my thoughts, carefully planning my words. But when we entered our home, Owen turned to me with a look that I couldn’t quite decipher.
“In this situation, it is a woman’s duty to endure pain gracefully,” he said with an oddly formal tone. “I didn’t mean to upset you, but I think you could have handled it better.”
His words stunned me. It wasn’t just the condescension, but the complete lack of empathy and understanding. How could he, the man who witnessed every contraction and push, believe that my pain and reaction to it were something to be controlled for his comfort?
I mustered the courage to speak up, struggling to keep my voice steady. “Owen, have you ever considered what childbirth really feels like? Can you even begin to understand the pain, fear, and sheer effort it takes to bring a new life into this world?”
He tried to respond, but I raised my hand to stop him. “You don’t. And yet, you thought it was acceptable to silence me, to not embarrass you. Do you comprehend how that made me feel?”
His face softened slightly, but I wasn’t finished. “I was scared, Owen. I was in agony. 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 finally admitted, his voice showing a hint of remorse.
“Well, you did,” I replied, my voice breaking. “And it’s not just about the birth. It goes beyond that. If you believe it’s my duty to endure pain gracefully for your comfort, then you don’t understand the true meaning of partnership.”
Owen looked down, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I truly am. I was so self-absorbed that I didn’t consider your feelings. I promise to do better.”
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. “I hope you mean that, Owen. Being a father means understanding and supporting your family, even in their most vulnerable moments.”
He nodded, his eyes meeting mine with newfound sincerity. “I do mean it. I want to learn, and I want to be there for you and our son in every possible way.”
In the quiet of our home, we stood there, the promise of a fresh start between us. I knew that healing would take time, but his willingness to understand was a step in the right direction. As we embarked on this new journey as parents, I hoped that we could build a partnership based on empathy, respect, and genuine support.
