They say you never truly know someone until you have a child with them. In my case, it took going into labor to discover that my loving husband considered childbirth a spectator sport. He was there to “support” me with his gaming console, snacks, and a friend to keep him company.
Pregnancy changed everything. Not just for me, but for the way I saw my husband, Michael. He was excited, sure. We both were.
But while I was nesting and Googling every fruit-size comparison for our baby, Michael was… well, raiding dungeons. In-game, that is.
He’s a gamer, always has been. And honestly, I didn’t mind. Gaming was his way of unwinding after long days at the construction site where he worked as a project manager.
“Babe, feel this!” I’d call out at 2 a.m. when our baby decided to practice kickboxing against my ribs.
“Coming!” he’d reply, pausing his game and rushing over to place his hand on my belly. His eyes would light up with wonder when he felt the movement. “That’s our little ninja,” he’d whisper.
During most of my pregnancy, he was sweet, doting, and even charming in his own distracted way. But one thing really bothered me.
When the baby actually arrived, would he still treat it like another “quest,” or would reality hit differently? I’d wonder.
He came to every appointment, made late-night snack runs, and even downloaded a contraction timer app. But he also brought his Switch to the birthing class and asked the doula if we’d have hospital Wi-Fi.
At the time, I laughed. Hormones and all. But there was always a little flicker in the back of my mind. Would he get it when the moment came?
His parents, especially his mom, Margaret, were over the moon about the baby. They called every week to check in, sent tiny onesies and parenting books, and asked questions like, “Is Michael helping enough?”
It was clear they were thrilled about becoming grandparents… but I always got the feeling they were also quietly praying their son would step up when the time came.
Margaret had this calm but commanding energy that reminded me of a retired school principal. When she spoke, people listened.
His dad, Robert, quiet and serious, rarely weighed in unless it really mattered.
“He was always in his own world,” Margaret confided during one of her visits. “Even as a child. We had to work extra hard to pull him into reality.”
When I reached the 38-week mark, I told Michael gently that things were getting real.
It was time to wrap his head around the fact that this was happening soon. And when it did, I’d need him there. Like, really there.
He smiled, nodded, and said, “Babe, of course. I’ll just bring something to keep me busy during the boring parts.”
I assumed he meant a book. Maybe a crossword puzzle. Perhaps some emails from work to catch up on.
I did not imagine what actually happened.
“The first part of labor can take forever,” he explained one night while I was packing my hospital bag. “My cousin said his wife was in labor for like 20 hours before anything exciting happened.”
“Exciting?” I raised an eyebrow.
“You know what I mean,” he said. “I just don’t want to sit there staring at you while you’re uncomfortable. That won’t help either of us.”
He had a point, I thought. Maybe a little distraction would keep him calm, which would keep me calm. And honestly, I was too tired and too pregnant to argue about hypotheticals.
Besides, Michael had been so supportive throughout the pregnancy. Surely he’d rise to the occasion when our daughter decided to make her entrance into the world.
I was admitted after my water broke at 2 a.m. on a Tuesday. It was early labor, and I was breathing through contractions while a nurse named Renee got me settled in the delivery room.
“Your husband parking the car?” she asked, helping me into the hospital gown.
“He’s grabbing our bags,” I said, wincing as another contraction built. “He should be here any minute.”
Then in walks Michael. Rolling a small suitcase and carrying a tote bag.
“Hospital bag?” I asked, hopeful.
“Nope,” he grinned. “Entertainment station.”
I kid you not, he pulled out a mini portable screen, his Xbox, a controller, an energy drink, a headset, and two family-sized bags of chips.
Before I could even process what was happening, he was asking Renee where the nearest outlet was. I’m breathing like a broken air pump while he sets up his console on the little rolling table that’s supposed to hold my water cup and monitors.
“Michael,” I managed between breaths, “what are you doing?”
“Setting up,” he replied casually. “Don’t worry, I won’t be in the way.”
“You’re here to support me,” I reminded him.
“And I will,” he promised, not looking up from connecting cables. “But the doctor said first babies can take forever. Remember my cousin’s wife? 20 hours!”
I was about to respond when another contraction hit, stronger than before. I grabbed the bedrail, focusing on my breathing. Michael glanced over.
“You good?” he asked.
“Not really,” I gasped.
“Need anything?”
“My husband,” I said pointedly.
He nodded absently, then went back to his setup. “Once I get this going, I’ll be right there.”
Then came the cherry on top.
“Yo, she said you were only like 3cm, right?”
That sentence came from his best friend, Greg, who walked in 10 minutes later with a Slurpee in one hand and fast food in the other.
Apparently, they’d planned a little Call of Duty session while I “worked on dilating.”
The smell of greasy burgers filled the room, making my already queasy stomach roll.
“What is he doing here?” I asked.
“Moral support,” Michael replied, taking the food from Greg. “For both of us.”
Renee stepped in, her professional tone tinged with steel. “Sir, you can’t be here unless you’re the patient or the partner.”
“She’s fine. This’ll take hours,” Michael said. “We’re just gonna chill in the corner.”
I was literally mid-contraction when he said that.
Greg, at least, had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Maybe I should come back later?”
“Nah, man,” Michael said, handing him a controller. “We’ve got time. The doctor won’t even be in for a while.”
Renee crossed her arms. “Actually, I need to check her progress and set up her monitors. So, everyone who’s not directly supporting the mother needs to step out.”
Greg hesitated. Michael didn’t even look up from the screen.
“One sec,” he muttered, “just let me save this.”
And that’s when karma showed up.
Right then, standing in the doorway, were Margaret and Robert. They came to surprise us and caught this entire scene unfolding.
Margaret’s eyes dropped from the Xbox… to the headset… to me… and then snapped back to her son.
She didn’t raise her voice.
She just said, “Michael. Outside. Now.”
He went pale while Greg practically ran outside.
“Mom? Dad?” Michael stammered. “What are you—”
“Outside,” Margaret repeated, her voice quiet but firm.
What followed was a closed-door “conversation” between him and his parents in the hallway. I don’t know exactly what was said, but I could hear Margaret’s hushed intensity through the door.
Renee busied herself checking my vitals, offering a sympathetic smile. “Your mother-in-law seems… effective.”
“You have no idea,” I whispered.
When Michael came back in about ten minutes later, his face looked like someone had just reprogrammed his entire operating system.
His parents followed.
Then, Robert picked up the Xbox and other equipment.
“I’ll put this in the car,” Robert said, not looking at his son.
Michael unplugged everything that remained, packed it all up, then came to my side, took my hand, and said, “I’m so sorry, Amy. I get it now. I’m here.”
Margaret pulled up a chair on my other side, reached for a washcloth, and gently wiped my forehead.
“We’ll take care of you both,” she promised.
Michael stayed by my side the entire rest of the labor. No distractions. No complaints. Just quiet support, ice chips, and whispered encouragement through every contraction.
When things got really intense, he let me squeeze his hand until his fingers turned white. When I doubted I could keep going, he looked me in the eyes and told me I was the strongest person he’d ever known.
Our daughter, Lily, was born that evening after 16 hours of labor.
When we brought her home three days later, Michael’s parents stayed a few extra days. I suspect they stayed to make sure their son continued acting like an adult.
To be fair, he’s been amazing since. It’s like that moment flipped a switch in him.
The first night home, when Lily wouldn’t stop crying at 3 a.m., he was the one who got up, walked her around the living room, and sang off-key lullabies until she settled.
Sometimes people need a wake-up call to understand what really matters. My husband wasn’t a bad person. Just someone who hadn’t fully grasped the gravity of becoming a parent.
That day in the delivery room could have driven us apart, but instead, it brought us closer together. Margaret and Robert showing up wasn’t just good timing. It was the universe sending my husband exactly what he needed
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Source: thecelebritist.com