“I figured I’d bring something to keep me calm during the slow parts,” he said.
The nurse, Renee, gave me a knowing look as I tried to process what was happening. I reminded Michael—through contractions—that I needed his support. He assured me he’d be there once he was “set up.” Then his best friend, Greg, arrived—invited to play games while I labored.
It wasn’t until Michael’s parents, Margaret and Robert, walked into the room that everything changed. Margaret, calm and commanding, surveyed the situation and said only three words: “Michael. Outside. Now.”
I’ll never know exactly what was said, but when Michael returned, his entire demeanor had shifted. His gaming gear was packed up, and he came to my side, held my hand, and apologized. Margaret stayed in the room with me, offering comfort, while Robert quietly took the gaming equipment to the car.
For the rest of the labor, Michael was present in every sense of the word. He held my hand, spoke words of encouragement, and never once looked away. When I felt overwhelmed, he reminded me of my strength. And when our daughter, Lily, was born 16 hours later, he cried right along with me.
Michael’s transformation didn’t end in the delivery room. In the weeks that followed, he became a hands-on father—soothing Lily at night, helping with feedings, and learning everything he could about newborn care. His parents stayed to help, but more than that, they gave him the guidance he needed to grow into his new role.
Becoming a parent isn’t always instant. For some, it takes a wake-up call—a moment of clarity. That day at the hospital could have driven us apart, but instead, it brought us together in a way I never expected.
Michael didn’t just become a father. He became the partner I always hoped he would be.