To be a father
last november, the writer, in anticipation of fatherhood, paid homage to his father in this column. Today, he recounts the day in december when he became a father himself.
BEING a first-time father is one of those life-changing experiences that is rather hard to explain to people. The few weeks leading up to little Ilhan’s birth in December were a frantic time for me.
It was no walk in the park having to juggle work commitments – including shuttling between Penang (my home) and Putrajaya, relocating overseas, and moving house – and anxiously await the arrival of my first child. Going through those moments I was inclined to paraphrase Eleanor Roosevelt: “People are like tea bags; you never know how strong they are until they are in hot water.”
Yet when you stack all these challenges up against being present in the delivery room for your child’s birth, the “challenges of the world” that you have apparently faced earlier will simply diminish, seeming unimportant and insignificant. My wife and I experienced the longest 14 hours of our lives just before Ilhan was born.
I remember vividly the conversations I had with my wife in the early hours as we entered the hospital. We talked about the future and even discussed the names we had in mind for our baby, if only to distract ourselves from the nervousness that engulfed us.
I will never forget the moment I wheeled my wife into the labour room, when we both sought each other’s forgiveness. With tears streaming down our faces, we felt fearful of what was to come – a delicate situation that neither of us had experienced before. Scary thoughts of all eventualities filled us.
In retrospect, I thank my parents and my teachers for instilling in me the trust in God and His plans, especially at testing times like this.
At around 1.02, after over 14 hours of labour, baby Ilhan (a name that means “good person, respectful, and precious”) came into the world, with her eyes wide open and arms flailing but no sound from her.
In the seconds before she screamed and introduced herself to the world, the atmosphere around us was so tense that you could hear a pin drop and cut the tension with a knife. Then came her first scream. Gosh, did the feeling of relief sweep us like a gush of much-needed fresh air!
Cutting the umbilical cord of your newborn is, on the other hand, a most amazing experience that I’ll recommend to all fathers. The gesture is symbolic of the big responsibility placed on your shoulders. All those so-called “challenges” I had faced in the office paled into insignificance at that very moment in the labour room.
When I held our daughter in my arms, I was overcome by a sense of responsibility – and completeness. I knew life will never be the same for both our families. I was nervous yet excited for what lies ahead.
Witnessing your child’s birth is as much a test of character as it is a team effort. Your role as a “cheerleader” and a “stress ball” is very much appreciated though fathers-to-be may not yet realise it. Becoming a parent gives you the privilege to experience that “special” moment, which is part of what makes life meaningful.
To the staff of LohGuanLye Specialists Centre in Penang as well as our families and friends, thank you for being part of our special moment. We pray that you find your special moments, too.
The writer is a Foreign Service officer with the Malaysian High Commission in New Delhi, India.