Well we did it. On the morn of Monday the 26th of July, Suzy gave birth to the beautiful 7lb 15oz Olivia Alexandra Reed. She is undeniably the most beautiful creation to have ever graced this world. And yes, I know, biased, but I care not one jot.

The last 58 hours have presented me with the biggest emotional roller coaster I have ever experienced in my whole life. It all started in the early hours of Sunday morning, at our local hospital's delivery suite where we spent 5 hours waiting, and waiting, and nothing happening, only to be sent home, after nothing happened, at 5am. Returning at 7 o'clock that evening.

The proverbial roller coaster that began in that room on Sunday is still well and truly in full swing and I've tapped into emotions that I did not even know existed. I was told to be prepared for the most amazing thing I have ever seen, namely watching Suzy give birth, and while it was that, it was also the most terrifying, anxious 14 hours of my life. An extract from wikipedia on labor: "Uterine muscles form opposing spirals from the top of the upper segment of the uterus to its junction with the lower segment. During effacement, the cervix becomes incorporated into the lower segment of the uterus. During a contraction, these muscles contract causing shortening of the upper segment and drawing upwards of the lower segment, in a gradual expulsive motion. This draws the cervix up over the baby's head. Full dilatation is reached when the cervix has widened enough to allow passage of the baby's head, around 10 cm dilation for a term baby." Another way to explain the above is to say, stuff happens, and it hurts, a lot. Seeing Suzanne in so much pain was heart wrenching. I felt like I wanted to transport myself into her body and take some of the pain for a while. A cliche, I know, but I felt hopeless in the knowledge that no matter how much encouragement I gave, no matter how much reassurance, Suzy was facing the worst pain she had suffered since Devin was born, some ten years ago and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. When the baby finally arrived I felt a tremendous sense of relief which completely overwhelmed the emotional response I was expecting. Rather than feel tearful, beholding the sight of my newborn, I was numbed, emotionally shipwrecked.

Shortly after the birth Suz was ushered to the ward and I was sent home. I walked into an empty house and sat, for nearly 20 minutes, trying to work out what it was I was feeling. I had prepared myself for elation, tears, a sense of pride and was even set for being overwhelmed, but as I sat there, perched on the end of my bed, I felt non of that. It was as if someone had inserted an extraction device inside me and sucked out all remnants of feeling. Exhausted, I drifted off only to wake an hour and a half later conscious that I needed to pass on the good news to all and sundry.

I made my way back to the hospital that morning. Thoughts spun through my mind like salad being tossed about; I was sure that everything that was supposed to happen emotionally would happen and that I would of course, break down in tears and be flooded with every emotion I had prepared for and expected. I walked onto the ward and Olivia was sleeping. I stared at her longingly, hoping it would trigger something inside me; perhaps I had just been tired and overwhelmed the night before. Surely it would come now. It didn't. I picked her up and held her in my arms and it was like I was holding a doll. An inanimate object to which there was no sentiment. My heart sank. I felt crushed. Why was I not feeling anything? Why had the others dads that day been emotional, proud, doting on their newborns and I was not? I was utterly terrified. What if my initial thoughts on not wanting children had manifested themselves? I sat and watched as midwives, physios, and hearing test staff came and went. I clock watched wondering when we would be able to go home as i consoled myself in the hope that getting Olivia home would sound everything down.

We returned home later that day and my mind was taken away from what I should have been feeling by the hustle and bustle of family and friends visiting. As everyone left and we went to bed though I still could not make fist of my emotions. I turned over away from Suzanne and could feel my eyes welling up. They were the most peculiar tears; not based on any identifiable trigger - not sadness, not joy, not fear. I was bereft. I sobbed myself to sleep that night. Then I woke up, and my whole world changed. I don't know what happened that night, I don't know if it was the prayers, the compassionate touch from Suz, the rest, but I awoke with the most logical and more importantly, understandable, set of emotions I had ever had. I turned to Suz and felt a tremendous sense of pride in what she had achieved, the pain and angst she'd gone through in order to give me the most precious gift one could ever be given. I turned to Olivia and was instantly showered with joy, relief, and a sense of pride that I couldn't even begin to describe. I, almost in a fleeting moment, fell completely totally and utterly in love with her. I stared her in the eyes and the last 9 months flashed before me. The phone call from Suz to say she was pregnant, the tears, the joy, the pain that had surrounded the pregnancy. I was smitten. Before me was the most amazing thing I had ever seen in my life, and more amazing than anything else was the knowledge she was mine. I cannot even begin to describe how much this moment meant to me. It almost felt like my whole life had been a pivot to that very minute. Olivia Alexandra Reed, my daughter.