It’s not about me

I remember the day well. It was a day I had dreamt about for many years. The day I speak of was the moment my child would make an entrance to this world. As a young man, my desire was to be the best father ever and now it was my turn to prove my worth. Having the opportunity to learn from a great father, I had convinced myself the transition into fatherhood would be an easy one. Studying and talking to others, I developed a foolproof plan to support my child’s mother throughout the process and set myself up for success.

I remember the moment she woke me up and told me that it was time to head out to the hospital. Methodically, yet barely able to contain myself, I gathered our bags, loaded her into the van and started off. It was then that I realized the first chink in my self-designed armor, per se. Traveling slowly and safely, just like I had read, I was reminded that the contractions were getting closer and I should probably drive a little faster. I learned at that moment that lecturing the mother of my soon-to-arrive child about safe driving habits was not the best choice and my time was better spent simply doing as I was told.

Once inside the hospital I again tried to be responsible. At the onset of each contraction, I began mapping the times through the use of my wristwatch. Little did I know the beeping sound of my watch’s stopwatch caused so much angst. As my child’s mother began speaking in a tone comparable to a demon straight out of the bowels of somewhere dark, describing what she was going to do to me if the watch beeped one more time, I realized that life as I knew it had changed rapidly. My happy little family would not only welcome a new child but unleash someone or something I hadn’t counted on.

A short time later, thankfully, my life was forever changed. As the room full of medical staff encouraged my wife to push while I remained totally silent, in my best attempt at self-preservation, I heard the doctor state, “Wow, look at that head of hair.” As a reaction, I guess, I looked to my right and saw the most amazing sight I had ever experienced. As my daughter’s head began to crown I, for the first time, caught a glimpse of the top of her precious head. In a moment I can only describe as life altering, I could feel a wave of excitement, joy, and relief flow over me.

At that moment, life was no longer about me as a person. My life had been transformed simply by the arrival of a little girl who had a head of hair like Elvis. From that moment on my existence was only about making her stronger, safer, and happier than the day before. Still to this day I think about her arrival and all the adventures Natalie and I have embarked upon. I think about how in life, we often come across people and events which require us to take a back seat as we work towards bettering the journey of someone else. Never hesitate to relinquish the driver’s seat my friends. Sometimes, the act of making it less about you and more about someone else in the end enhances everything you specifically are about.

Richard J. Stephens lives in Carter County and is the father of three little ladies ranging in age from 9 to 29.