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Your role as dad during labour
It’s a somewhat chilly Friday morning in the middle of July, 10 years ago. Not that I’m quite aware of my surroundings because I’m lying in a birthing bath wondering how much longer I can endure this thing called labour. As a particularly nasty contraction passes over me, I gingerly open my eyes to look up at my darling husband who is holding my hand, with tears streaming down his face. I can remember that moment as though it were yesterday. It is imprinted deeply within my heart. But why, you might ask? Because he was there with me. Not merely present, but WITH me. He may not have been physically birthing our child, but he was present and engaged. And it made the world of difference to me.
