When I went into labor, my husband, Michael, arrived with an Xbox and his friend, treating the delivery room like a gaming lounge. His parents’ surprise visit woke him up, transforming a hurtful moment into a lesson in love and fatherhood.
Pregnancy shifted how I saw Michael. We were both excited, but while I prepared for our baby, he relaxed with video games after his construction job. I’d nudge him at night, “Feel this kick!” He’d pause his game, touch my belly, and say, “Our little star!” His delight was real, but I wondered if he’d take parenthood seriously. He was supportive—joining doctor visits, grabbing snacks, downloading a labor app—but he played games in birthing class and asked about hospital Wi-Fi. I let it slide, hoping he’d be present when our baby arrived.
Michael’s parents, Margaret and Robert, were thrilled, sending baby gifts and checking in. Margaret, a strong presence, hinted Michael could be distracted, saying, “He’s always been in his own bubble.” At 38 weeks, I told him, “This is real now. I need you there.” He nodded, “I’ll bring something to pass the time.” I pictured a book, not what he meant. He’d heard labor could take hours, mentioning his cousin’s 20-hour wait. “It’s slow at first,” he said. Too tired to debate, I trusted his care during pregnancy meant he’d show up.
My water broke at 2 a.m., and we rushed to the hospital. Nurse Renee helped me as contractions started. Michael arrived with bags. “For us?” I asked. “Gaming stuff,” he said, setting up an Xbox, screen, chips, and drinks on my medical table. “Michael, I need you,” I said through pain. “I’m here,” he replied, focused on his setup. Then his friend Greg arrived with fast food, ready to game. “Why’s he here?” I asked. “Support,” Michael said. Renee intervened, “Only partners stay.” Michael shrugged, “It’ll be hours.” Greg wavered, but Michael handed him a controller.
Then Margaret and Robert appeared, spotting the Xbox. Margaret’s firm, “Michael, outside,” silenced him. Greg fled, and Michael followed. I heard Margaret’s stern voice outside. Renee smiled, “She’s in charge.” Michael returned, apologetic, saying, “Amy, I’m sorry. I’m with you.” Robert removed the Xbox, and Margaret sat by me, wiping my face, promising care. Michael stayed through 16 hours, holding my hand until our daughter, Lily, was born. His parents stayed to ensure his change lasted. He’s been a great dad since, singing to Lily at night. His parents’ arrival turned a painful moment into a stronger family, teaching Michael what matters.
