My husband, Ryan, brought an Xbox and his friend to my labor, thinking it was a waiting game. His parents’ unexpected arrival showed him what really mattered. Pregnancy transformed my life, from tracking baby growth to feeling Ryan’s joy at every kick. A mechanic, Ryan gamed to relax, and I loved his quirky passion. He’d pause his game to feel our son move, calling him “our little racer,” his smile melting my worries.
Ryan was supportive, attending checkups and fetching cravings, but his gaming during birthing classes—asking about Wi-Fi—made me uneasy. Would he take labor seriously? His parents, Linda and George, were ecstatic, sending baby gear and checking in. Linda, with her no-nonsense vibe, once said, “Ryan’s always been a dreamer. We had to nudge him to focus.” I hoped he’d rise to fatherhood.
At 38 weeks, I told Ryan I’d need him fully present for labor. “I’ve got you,” he said, mentioning he’d bring “a distraction” for the “slow parts.” I imagined a book, not a gaming setup. He referenced a friend’s long labor, saying, “It’s mostly waiting.” Exhausted, I let it go, trusting his heart. When my water broke at midnight, we headed to the hospital. Nurse Sarah helped me settle, asking, “Where’s your husband?” “Getting our bags,” I said, gripping the bed through a contraction.
Ryan arrived with a backpack, unpacking an Xbox, energy drinks, and snacks. “Gotta stay busy,” he said, plugging in while I labored. “Ryan, I need you here,” I pleaded. “I am,” he said, eyes on the screen, “but this takes hours.” Then his friend, Dave, showed up with pizza, planning to game. The smell made me nauseous. “Why’s he here?” I asked. “Moral support,” Ryan said. Sarah firmly told Dave to leave, but Ryan shrugged, saying, “It’s fine.”
Then Linda and George walked in, stunned by the Xbox and snacks. Linda’s icy, “Ryan, out, now,” made him freeze. Dave fled, and Ryan followed for a hallway lecture I couldn’t hear but felt. Sarah smiled, “Your mother-in-law’s a force.” When Ryan returned, humbled, George removed the Xbox. Ryan held my hand, saying, “I’m sorry, Jess. I’m here.” Linda stayed, soothing me with a cool cloth, promising support. Ryan was my rock through 14 hours of labor, whispering strength until our son, Ethan, arrived.
Ryan’s parents stayed a few days, ensuring he stepped up. He’s been a devoted dad, soothing Ethan at dawn. That day showed me his heart needed a nudge, and his parents’ timing turned a painful moment into a stronger family bond.
