Last week, my husband Owen and I welcomed our baby boy into the world. It was a natural birth, and Owen was by my side, supporting me throughout the entire process. The pain was intense, and as any woman would, I screamed. However, instead of offering me comfort, Owen whispered in my ear, “Can you stop screaming? You’re really embarrassing me.” Those words repeated a few times, and with each repetition, my anger grew.
When our beautiful baby boy was finally placed in my arms, my joy was overcome by a simmering rage. How could Owen possibly try to silence me during such a profound and excruciating experience? I knew I had to teach him a valuable lesson when we got home.
The ride home from the hospital was filled with the soft coos of our newborn, but otherwise, it was silent. I was lost in thought, carefully planning my words for the conversation ahead. As we stepped inside our home, Owen turned to me with a look that puzzled me.
“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.”
His words stunned me. It wasn’t just the condescension, but the complete lack of empathy and understanding. How could he, the man who had witnessed every contraction and push, believe that my pain and reaction to it were something to be managed for his comfort?
I took a deep breath and began, struggling to keep my voice steady, “Owen, do you have any idea what childbirth feels like? Can you even comprehend the pain, fear, and sheer effort it takes to bring a new life into this world?”
He started to respond, but I raised my hand to stop him. “No, you don’t. Yet, you thought it was acceptable to tell me to be quiet, to not embarrass you. Do you know how that made me feel?”
Though his face softened slightly, I had more to say.
“I was scared, Owen. I was in agony. Instead of supporting me, you made me feel ashamed. And for what? For expressing pain? For being human?”
“I… I didn’t mean to hurt you,” his voice finally showed a hint of remorse.
“Well, you did,” I replied, my voice breaking. “And this goes beyond the birth. It’s about our entire relationship. 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 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 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.”
As we stood there in the quiet of our home, a promise of a new beginning hung in the air. I knew that the hurt would take time to heal, but Owen’s willingness to understand was a step in the right direction. As new parents, I hoped that we could build a partnership based on empathy, respect, and genuine support.
