My son Gustavo was born today at 4:09 am. He took about 32 hours to pop out after we got to the hospital. I’m a little loopy from lack of sleep, but I shall still write my blog post.
I watched the whole birth, from the contraction pains to the pushing to the crowning and finally the absolute bloodbath that is the birth itself. I wasn’t ready for it, but I didn’t faint or throw up. I saw my son come out, I nearly got hit in the face by some kind of projectile bodily fluid (“SPLASH GUARD!” yelled the doc), cut the cord, saw the afterbirth. Watched the whole cleanup. I figured that if she has to go through all this shit, the least I could do is not be a wimp about it.
Looking at my son is like looking at a mirror. I’ve been reading him stories for the past six months or so, and now I get to tell stories to his face and SEE MY OWN FACE STARING BACK AT ME.
I’m not making much sense, but I love him more than anything in the world. I feel a sense of wholeness when I talk to my beautiful son.
What a powerful child.