My husband was there with me for the birth of our first baby. We had attended LaMaze classes together and thought we were totally prepared but at the last minute, a c-section was needed. Baby was in a transverse lie and refused to present anything to the cervix. I was badly upset by this - pregnancy had been blissfully uneventful for a 40-year-old first-timer, and I wanted it to end that way too. But, here I am with orders to present myself to the hospital tomorrow, prepared to stay for a couple of days. I’m crying about it and he says, quite seriously, “Is the point of this natural childbirth, or is it the baby?” Snap. I’m out of the feedback loop and back into my normal rational self. “Baby,” I say, with a sigh, and we pack the bag. Next day we go into the hospital and they tell him that he can be with me for the delivery, if he wants. He says he can’t handle that. I tell him we’re going home, because I refuse to have my baby alone. He puts on the scrubs and goes with me, telling me he is NOT going to look at the surgery and the bloody bits. And yet . . . he watches, and when they pull the baby out, he yells, “It’s Albert!” before the doctor can say, “It’s a boy.” They clean and wrap Albert and put him in Dad’s hands while they stitch me up, and I watch my husband fall in love right in front of my face. It was amazing. Baby is watching Dad’s face intently - you can almost see him thinking, “So that’s what that voice looks like!” Dad is just melting into a puddle right there. He was the best father for our son that I could imagine. He says he isn’t sure he would have felt that if he hadn’t been there, watching the birth, holding his newborn son.

Any man who misses this, is missing the opportunity of a lifetime.