They say you never truly know someone until you have a child with them. For me, that realization came during labor—when I discovered my husband, Michael, had a very different idea of what “support” meant in the delivery room.
Michael has always been a gamer. I never minded—it was his way of relaxing after long shifts as a construction project manager. During my pregnancy, he was caring in his own way. He rushed over to feel our baby kick at 2 a.m., downloaded a contraction timer, and made sure I had every snack craving covered. But when it came to preparing for labor, I started to notice signs that we weren’t on the same page.
He came to birthing classes with his gaming device in hand and even asked if the hospital had Wi-Fi. I chalked it up to nerves or a lack of understanding, but deep down, I hoped that when the time came, he’d rise to the occasion.
Then labor began.
At 2 a.m., I was admitted to the hospital. As I breathed through early contractions, I expected Michael to walk in with our essentials. Instead, he rolled in a suitcase filled not with clothes, but a full gaming setup—monitor, console, snacks, headset, and all.
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