Confessions of a First-Time Father

The twins were born, and just a few days later I had 1,000 stories. I could tell you about my wife, who did 12 hours of active labor, without the benefit—or risk of complications—of an anesthetic. As she shouted and ululated, I repeated the phrase she told me beforehand she wanted to hear. “The babies are coming.” But the moments that stay with me are when she could barely go on, her body wracked by contractions, and the doula whispered in her ear—in some small space underneath my wife’s moaning—“You’re a warrior.”

I could tell you about Eli, the boy showman who, weighed in at six pounds, one ounce and emerged face up—the most stunning “Here I am!” entrance I could imagine.

I could go on about how the relationship with my kids started before they were born. On our doula’s advice, I sang to the babies from about 24 weeks of development, in Lisa’s womb: “What a Wonderful World.”

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