SWEET FATHERHOOD S**T 101 (36 HOURS)

                          

So a supposedly “straightforward routine” turned out to be a “major surgery” and an overnight stay in a hospital for my partner and 36 hours of an inadvertent bonding session with my 9 month old daughter.

I had almost forgotten how the insides of a hospital looked like and smelled like (thank God)  and as we went to see the specialist, I was grateful that we were in for a “straightforward routine”.

There was the usual bit of delay – no, in fact there was a very lengthy delay. When my partner’s name was eventually called out by the immaculately dressed nurse, my sigh of relief must have been audible from 50 yards away, I checked my watch, knowing I’d be able to get out and get in the day job soon. In the mean time, there was the small issue of taking care of, entertaining and engaging a surprisingly energetic 9 month old until my partner was done.

Another 45 minutes later, the nurse returned…without my partner. I thought nothing of it until I realized that she was avoiding my gaze. I knew there and then that something was amiss. She confirmed my suspicions with the customary “can you come with me Sir?” in a manner not dissimilar to how a police officer will drag your ass to the station.

I entered the room and the look on my partner’s face told a story. She shook her head. I looked from her to the nurse and then back to her again. She said she wasn’t allowed to come back home with us. She was in critical condition.

“Critical condition”? Just hours earlier, she had given me a lecture on childcare, demanded I took time off work, gave me some ear-bashing about one thing or the other and nagged about a thing or three. Plus, she had gone on and on about the best colour Christmas tree to get to fit in her living room. She seemed perfectly alright to me. That’s her in top physical condition.

She broke into tears. She did not want to stay in the hospital. I did not want her to stay in the hospital. The nurse elucidated the issues at hand to me and during that period not less than 5 doctors swaggered into the room; each one with a word or thousand of encouragement and reassurance.

I was not entirely sure what I was most worried about at this point – the “critical condition” my partner was apparently in, her being left overnight in the capable hands of nervous-sounding and fidgety health professionals or looking after the rapidly developing mini-me who had never been away from her mother for more than two hours in her life. She’d usually bawl her eyes out when her mother goes missing for longer than necessary. “Longer than necessary” being 60 seconds.

“Can I keep my baby here with me?” asked my partner.

The answer was a curt “NO”.

It was like a new dam had broken at the back of my partner’s eyes. The flood of tears was on a torrential scale. Instantly, my God-given paternal instincts kicked in and in one quick motion kissed my partner on the cheek and scooped our baby up before the former could question my abilities as a temporary single father…

End of part 1