As I labored with our daughter, my husband, Michael, brought an Xbox and his buddy to the delivery room, thinking childbirth was a game night. His parents’ unexpected arrival snapped him into reality, teaching him the true meaning of partnership and parenthood.
Michael and I were overjoyed about our baby, but pregnancy showed our differences. I tracked every baby milestone, while he dove into video games to unwind from his construction job. I’d wake him at midnight, “Feel her move!” He’d pause his game, touch my belly, and whisper, “Our little warrior.” His joy was genuine, but I worried he saw fatherhood as another level to clear. He was great—attending checkups, fetching snacks, downloading a labor app—but he gamed through birthing class and asked about hospital internet. I brushed it off, trusting his care meant he’d be there when it counted.
His parents, Margaret and Robert, were thrilled about the baby, sending onesies and calling often. Margaret, a commanding figure, noted Michael’s tendency to drift, saying, “He’s always lived in his head.” At 38 weeks, I said, “This is happening soon. I need you.” He smiled, “I’ll bring something for the boring bits.” I imagined a magazine, not what he planned. He’d heard labor could drag, citing his cousin’s 20-hour ordeal. “It’s just waiting,” he said. Exhausted, I didn’t argue, believing he’d show up for me.
My water broke at 2 a.m., and we headed to the hospital. Nurse Renee settled me as contractions hit. Michael arrived with bags. “For the baby?” I asked. “Gaming gear,” he said, unpacking an Xbox, monitor, snacks, and drinks. He set up while I winced through pain, asking for an outlet. “Michael, be here for me,” I said. “I will,” he muttered, wiring his console. Then his friend Greg walked in with burgers, ready to game. “Why’s he here?” I snapped. “Support,” Michael said. Renee stepped in, “Only partners.” Michael waved it off, “It’s early.” Greg hesitated, but Michael urged him to stay.
Then Margaret and Robert walked in, eyes on the Xbox setup. Margaret’s sharp, “Outside, Michael,” stopped him cold. Greg bolted, and Michael trailed his parents. Margaret’s firm voice echoed outside. Renee grinned, “She’s got this.” Michael returned, humbled, saying, “Amy, I’m sorry. I’m here.” Robert took the Xbox, and Margaret sat with me, cooling my face, promising support. Michael held my hand through 16 hours, encouraging me until our daughter, Lily, arrived. His parents stayed to ensure his focus. He’s been a devoted dad since, soothing Lily at night. That moment, sparked by his parents, turned a potential rift into a stronger bond, showing him what love and duty mean.
