To attempt to describe the miracle of childbirth is to belittle it I'm sure, because it really is an indescribable feeling to see one's children come into the world. And the shameful irony is that the one doing all of the work, namely Michele (although I am quite proud of the all important hand holding, hair stroking duties that I feel I performed admirably), is the one who never gets to witness it 'close up' so to speak.
When the head emerges first the face is eerily peaceful in its expression. It is as the remainder of the body follows, like perfectly packaged flat-pack furniture, that the release from its wombed restraint suddenly causes the little body to come to life, and the all important first infant cry breaks what you have to then not actually realised was quite a peaceful atmosphere (Michele, to her credit, has never once screamed on the birth of any of our children - although I think the gas and air that she was sucking up in great lungfuls may have had something to do with that).
Regardless, even after 3 children (and there will be no more), the moment of realisation that this little person is your sole responsibility to mould, educate, develop and grow is an incredibly powerful one.
But so too is the feeling that I was already experiencing whilst driving home, that was so aptly soundtracked when my ipod found The Verve's song - "Lucky Man".
Indeed I am.
Welcome to the world Rhys. I hope we do you proud.
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