My First Day of Fatherhood

By Karlton Douglas

Here is the story of my experience at becoming a father. The thought I hope you keep in mind is that our Heavenly Father cares even more for us than we do our own children, and unlike us, He doesn’t feel helpless because He is all-powerful.

I was nervous about being a father. Most men about to become dads probably are.

But after my wife suffered ten hours of back labor, and no baby in sight, the family doctor called in a specialist. My wife lay with her eyes rolled back in her head from pain, and I was ready for a breakdown. In trying to explain what I understood of the situation I did start breaking down emotionally in front of both sides of the family. Never had I been in such a situation where I felt so totally helpless.

By the worried look on the doctor’s face, and a baby being too far down for a c-section, but not wanting to come into the world–how much more could my wife withstand?

There was only one answer to a situation that was leaving the worry and fear stage, and becoming a frantic, terrorizing thing. I went to a place every father must go to time and time again when we are out of our element–serious, desperate prayer to One who can help us. He is the pre-eminent Father.

I slipped into a bathroom to try and regain a composure that had fled me. More than that, I knew this was a desperate situation that if my heavenly Father did not intercede with, could become life and death for mother and baby.

As well as can be remembered in that anxious time the prayer went something like this:

“Father we need you now very much. Rhonda cannot get that baby delivered without your help. Give me strength so that I can be strong for her. Please help this child to come safely into the world.”

I imagine Joseph and Mary must have prayed something similar to this in Bethlehem while she was giving birth to Jesus in that chilly barn without doctors, monitors, or any modern conveniences. Well, all the modern conveniences in the world were not helping my wife and baby right now.

Stepping out of the bathroom and going back to my wife’s side, I took her hand and told her, “Rhonda, we have to get this baby out.” I know, easy for me to say, but she did draw strength from God, or the strength she felt that God gave me, or maybe an angel pushed on her stomach right then–I didn’t really care how. All I can say is that baby started coming.

Indeed it was coming so fast that when the nurse stepped into the room and looked, she took off like a shot to get help moving my wife to the delivery room, from her hospital room.

It is hard for me to think about this roller coaster of emotions I felt, and still feel thinking back on that time. I am not sure it is safe for a man to have that much emotion surging through him in a twenty-four-hour period: anxiety, worry, dread, fear, terror, hope, love, joy.

And joy it was when that little package of red-headed purple and pink-with such a cone-head I feared something was wrong with her at the time. But she was perfect. My wife was transformed from near-death experience to glowing bubbly motherhood. I had to do a reality check to make sure I was in the same world as just minutes before.

That was not the first time God has helped me to be a father, and that will not be the last. Only He can take a desperate situation and turn it into one of joy instead.

Because of this traumatic delivery of our baby girl, I sincerely believe we consider her an even greater gift. We certainly appreciate that she is a great gift from One who was a father before the world was made. And just maybe when we get to heaven, all these spiritual birth pains down here will also make our appreciation of heaven that much greater, it may be that without our experiences of “hell” on earth, we would not recognize the glory of heaven.

About the Author:
Karlton Douglas lives in Ohio with his lovely wife. He is proud of his daughter who recently graduated 4 years of college with magna cum-laude GPA and she has recently married. He is a frequent contributor to Rest Ministries devotionals.