This is my second week in obstetrics (spoiler alert: I don’t like it here) and phew—if I took the time to write down every single thing that’s happened so far, I’d probably have a full memoir by the time this rotation ends.
Before starting this rotation, I went to observe a delivery just to get the lay of the land—or rather, the lay of the labor room. It was my first time seeing someone give birth, and honestly? It wasn’t at all what I expected. The mother was calm, breathing rhythmically, her face serene—like she’d practiced this in a past life. When the baby came, she trembled slightly, her skin still porcelain, not a single hair out of place. It was, quite possibly, the most elegant delivery I’ll ever see.
Then came the next one.
This mother was 31, with the sweetest voice—you’d think she was a teenage girl going on a first date with her high school sweetheart. But the moment labor hit, she was screaming like she’d just realized epidurals weren’t an option. It was raw, it was loud, it was… cinematic. The kind of delivery scene you’d see on TV, except this one didn’t come with commercial breaks.
After the baby was born, the father rushed to the newborn like a paparazzi at a red carpet. “What a beautiful baby! Such big eyes!” the nurses gushed. “He could be in a diaper commercial!”
And then, the father—clearly auditioning for Most Inappropriate Comment of the Year—said, “He looks like his mom. Maybe the baby’s not mine??”
EXCUSE ME??? Maybe the baby’s not mine?!
He said it again. And again. Meanwhile, the mother was being sutured, in pain, exhausted, and probably seconds away from turning that surgical instrument into a weapon. I get that humor is subjective, but this one? Absolutely did not land.
As the nurses transferred the mother back to her bed, the father—still in full content-creator mode—started snapping photos of her.
“Stop taking photos or I’ll kick you!” she yelled.
To which he replied, “You can’t reach me right now anyway.”
I stood there—gloves on, mask in place, spirit absolutely shook.
Maybe this is how they show love. Maybe this is some next-level form of couple banter I’ve yet to unlock. Or maybe… he’s just senseless.
I don’t know, maybe I’m too young to understand this brand of humor. But tell me—was the father being affectionate in his own weird way, or was this man in desperate need of a sensitivity training session?
Let me know in the comments below—because at this point, I’m starting to think labor isn’t the most painful part of childbirth… men are.
Until next time,
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