They say you never really know someone until you have a child with them — and in my case, labor was the eye-opener. My husband, Michael, a sweet but often-distracted gamer, treated my delivery day like a casual hangout.
When I was admitted to the hospital, he showed up not with my overnight bag, but with his Xbox, snacks, and even invited his friend over for a Call of Duty session — during my contractions.
Throughout my pregnancy, Michael had been supportive in his own way: attending appointments, massaging swollen feet, and marveling at our baby’s kicks. But he never quite left his gaming mindset behind. I chalked it up to nerves and tried to believe he’d step up when it mattered.
Instead, while I was breathing through contractions, he was setting up his console and joking about how labor “takes forever.” When his friend arrived with fast food and a controller, I was too stunned to speak — thankfully, our nurse wasn’t. And neither was his mother.
Margaret and Robert, his parents, walked in mid-chaos. With just one sharp look and the calm tone of a seasoned school principal, Margaret took charge. She ushered Michael out for a serious conversation while his father quietly began packing up the gaming gear.
When Michael returned, something had shifted. He apologized, took my hand, and stayed by my side for the rest of the labor. No screens. No jokes. Just quiet support, unwavering presence, and tearful joy when our daughter, Lily, arrived.
Since then, he’s been a different man — a present, loving father. Sometimes it takes a wake-up call to grow up. For Michael, it came in the form of labor, a disappointed mother, and the sight of his wife doing the hardest thing she’s ever done — alone. Until he finally showed up.
