The miracle of life

A work colleague became an Auntie yesterday for the first time and as you might imagine, spent a great deal of time on the ‘phone, calling various members of the family spreading the good news.

Thanks to the marvels of that interweb thingy, several pictures were e-mailed to her within a few hours of her nephew arriving in the world. The pictures were of a very proud father, looking tired but overjoyed, cradling his first born in his arms.

It gave me a bit of a lump in my throat, thinking back to becoming a Dad for the first time myself.

The worry that Joseph looked like making an appearance 7 weeks before he should.

The stress of watching your spouse going through the pain barrier in the build up to delivery.

The unbelievable exhaustion of just being awake through the night, only being able to offer words of support or a hand to hold.

The genuine fear at what could go wrong.

All this, however is forgotten when you hear the words, “congratulations. You’re a father to a little boy”.

Your legs turn to jelly, you want to cry, you hug anyone who strays near to you, you fumble for your mobile so you can call the multitude of people you promised to let know the instant it was all over.

The tears of relief and happiness follow. An exhausted M was taken to rest and Joseph was whisked away to the neo-natal unit to an incubator.

I found myself alone, walking the corridors, all signs of tiredness gone and you ring your parents to inform them that they are Grandparents.

Looking at those pictures of another new life starting brought it all back.

I don’t know you mate but congratulations to you both.

It’s a truly amazing feeling isn’t it?