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He was a man who had dealt with nerves his whole life. He was renowned for his ability to think clearly, perform faultlessly and handle the unexpected. For twenty-one years he had prided himself on his ability to remain calm under pressure.
Until...his wife woke him in the early hours of the morning to tell him she was in labour. At that precise moment, Scott Moir, 'Man of Steel,' turned to mush!
He wasn't proud of the fact that it took her three attempts to make him understand that it was time.
He wasn't proud of the fact that at that specific moment he had panicked.
He wasn't proud of the fact that she had picked up her suitcase. Something that was so natural for him to do and so ingrained in him - yet tonight he forgot his duty.
He wasn't proud of the fact that he had tried to rush Tess out the door…not realising she was in the middle of a contraction.
He had to admit…this wasn't his finest hour.
Mush!
Typical Tess had taken control of the situation. Thank God! She had grabbed his hands and wrapped his arms around her. 'Now just breathe.' She said calmly. And finally, this was a moment he understood. He inhaled deeply. And exhaled. Breathing in blue…breathing out red. Just like they had done before countless performances in the past. Soon their breathing settled into their symbiotic rhythm. His thoughts cleared. His nerves settled. He was calm again.
He kissed her on the cheek. 'Are you okay?' He asked softly.
She nodded. Smiled. And took his hand.
***
After the first two hours of labour he began apologising.
He began praying during the fourth hour.
By the eighth hour, he promised he would never ever touch her again. He held the cross on his chain and chanted that he was going to become a monk! No sex. Ever. Again.
He hated seeing his wife in so much pain. He hated the relentlessness of that pain. He hated that he couldn't do anything to relieve that pain. There was a reason why men didn't give birth he thought. The human race would have died out centuries ago if it was up to the male population! He thought that there was no way he could have handled the level of pain for the length of time that she was managing. He was in awe. His delicate, petite, strong wife was fierce!
And just when he didn't think she could handle any more…
Just when he didn't think he could handle any more…
And just when he was about to plead with the doctor…
She began to push.
***
It was late. Very late.
The nurse was completing her rounds checking on her patients. New mums. Tired mums. Determined mums. She saw some of the most courageous women during her shifts. Women that had endured long hard labours. As a nurse who saw this grit and fortitude daily, she felt it was her duty to treat these women with extra care. Extra attention. And extra love.
She entered Mrs Moir's room and immediately noticed something was different.
As she approached the bed she smiled.
Snuggled up together on the bed was Mrs Moir. And Mr Moir. And baby Moir. All asleep. All peaceful. All wrapped in love.
She tiptoed out of the room. 'All is well in this room. No 'extra love' required here,' she thought. 'This little family is doing fine!'