I wanted to share with all of you the happiest day of my life. Before that, I want to talk about how I got here.
Me and my wife had been trying to get pregnant for nine months. Nine whole months of planning my day around when she’s ovulating, and when I could take time off work, the same amount of time it would’ve taken for a child to come to term we spent trying to make one. My wife got multiple tests. She didn’t have a hostile uterus. Her eggs were just fine so that just left me. After we found out that I was the one preventing her from living her dream she pulled me aside put a hand on my shoulder and said,
“It’s fine honey you don’t need to get tested” I knew this was pity, but I also knew that she was right. I couldn’t bring myself to go and take a test that proved that I was the one who was stripping my wife of her lifelong dream. She meant her words and I appreciated them.
After the tests, my wife just gained more resolve that we were going to have this kid one way or another. She made me drink green foul-smelling smoothies every day along with her. We started with IVF, and I started wearing loose boxers and taking as many supplements as I could. My urine stunk and came out of me bright yellow regardless of how much water I drank. I did yoga, I did anything I could to give my wife the family that she had always wanted. The one she had been deprived of as a child.
One night we finally had sex for a reason other than just procreation, it was because of wine. We both had a rough week at work, and we decided to drink far more and snuggle up closer than either of our sex drives permitted. I didn’t even know that we had a sex drive anymore or at least one that wasn’t set to autopilot. We finally ventured outside the missionary that had dominated our lives for the last months. We finally had sex with only the purpose of pleasure and expressing our love for each other. It was pure ecstasy and reminded me of all the reasons I love her. As we finished up, my wife went into her normal position, lifting her knees towards her chest and rocking like a bowl, hoping that one of my little guys might finally swim where it needed to go.
“Why are you even bothering?” I asked suddenly feeling shame, “You’re not ovulating and we’re taking a break from the IVF. This isn’t going to be the time that it happens.” She looked at me sad and dejected but put on a happy face.
“We might as well try since we’re here” Her tone was reassuring, and she continued rocking around like a happy baby hoping to make one. I tried to play off my dejection and chuckled. I went to the bathroom to grab a towel and give myself a pep talk in the mirror. As I started to wipe myself off. I felt a sudden, sharp pain radiate from my left hip, as I looked over, I saw a fucking spider. A small black spider. It didn’t seem different than the million other spiders I had seen in my life, but its presence still alarmed me. It had bit me and immediately shriveled up and died. It was just sitting there, looking like it had been dead for weeks lying on my hip as a red mark slowly grew underneath it like a volcano rising from the sea. I quickly swatted it away and then went to grab a piece of toilet paper. I crumpled the spider up in the paper and threw it to its watery grave. I watched with a sense of morbid curiosity as the dissolving paper spun around and around till it disappeared out of site. My wife hated bugs and I always made sure to get rid of them in secret as much as possible.
Two weeks later my wife sat me down when I got home from work looking gleeful. She then walked into the bathroom. I heard rustling and an idea came into my mind of what could be happening that I quickly banished. After about a minute Tristen came out wearing a shirt that said, “Hey there Daddy” and holding a pregnancy test that read positive. My mind reeled and a massive weight I had been carrying finally fell off my shoulders and to the floor. Maybe it wasn’t me this whole time. Maybe the only intervention we needed was some Merlot. My wife was beaming, I could tell the months and months of disappointment that she had soldiered through melted away as she held that plastic stick. It was still glistening with her pee and she held it aloft with as much care as if it was the actual baby. I got up and hugged her latching on to her shoulder blades firmly with my hands. We stayed there for a long time, no one wanting to break the embrace. Finally, she went into the bathroom to take a shower. She must have tested herself as soon as she got home from work and besides her announcement in shirt form, she was still wearing her work pants and shoes. She started heading towards the bathroom as I sat back down on the edge of the bed. I took a second to process everything. This had been everything for months but as the reality of the situation loomed close at hand it filled me with a certain amount of dread. Was I ready to be a dad? Would I be my dad all over again?
“So do you think you could go down to the basement and grab the scrapbook?” Tristen broke through my self-loathing.
“Sure Baby,” I knew exactly what she was talking about before she finished the sentence. When we first started trying to get pregnant, we bought a scrapbook to keep track of my wife’s progress and eventually house pictures of the baby. Some months ago, we had put it in the basement not wanting to stare at it day after day having it taunt us. I walked downstairs into the basement. It was dark and as I pulled the string overhead I heard the familiar ka-thunk. The light, however, did not pop on. I turned on my phone’s flashlight with a disgruntled sigh and held it aloft trying to keep the encroaching darkness at bay. As I headed down the stairs each creek of the steps filled me with dread. I don’t know when you’re supposed to overcome your fear of the dark or being alone. Maybe as a child but I know that I never did.
Lost in thought and dread I walked face first into a nasty spiderweb. It clung to my face fulfilling its purpose of catching victims unaware. Loose tendrils seemed to multiply in number as I dropped my phone attempting to rid myself of the anguish and disgust I felt. My phone tumbled down the stairs sending a strobe light to various parts of the basement. I ran down the stairs following suit. I quickly did the most embarrassing dance I’ve ever done. Long after the possibility of any more webs on my body had vanished, I continued shuffling and swatting. Spiderwebs just have a way of invading your mind becoming more of a paranoia than reality. It’s evolutionary, the itch you feel on the back of your neck protecting your ancestors from the mosquito that sat there. I wiped away every ounce of spiderweb until I was certain there was no more, but I couldn’t stop moving. The hypochondriac in me convinced myself that I had swallowed some web and God forbid a spider. I spent a minute trying to hack up any loose remnants that may be lingering in my lungs. After far too long I decided that I had to soldier on. Deciding I would crawl through a nest of fucking spiders if it was for my wife. As I walked towards the scrapbook, I caught an occasional stray web but none of them hit as hard as the first one that had caught me off guard. I reached the scrapbook that lay lovingly on an obsolete coffee table. It was covered in grime, webs, and a patina of dust. Clearing the material that felt like a burial shroud and reviving our hopes for the future gave gravity to a mundane situation.
I went back upstairs, and I popped the scrapbook in front of my wife. She was smiling so brightly that it lit up the entire room. A single tear rolled down her cheek and I quickly brushed it away. As my hand brushed across her cheek, she took a step back and brushed something off her face. She came back into my arms immediately and kissed me.
“Spiderweb,” she said softly to assuage my concerns.
The time moved fast as we prepared for the arrival of our child. We started childproofing far too early and we started buying cribs and things as soon as we knew. We told our friends and family members before the first trimester was over, unable to contain ourselves. The only thing we did decide to wait on was knowing the sex of the baby. We went to the hospital for our check-ups, but we decided to have a home birth with a midwife who we were already friends with.
“You guys let me know what you want your birth story to be,” Gina our Midwife said. “And I will try to write it with you.” Her voice was soft but with strength behind it. She sounded like the person you would want in a crisis. Probably a good trait for a midwife to be a port in the storm. “Now I need you to adhere to this dietary and supplement protocol as best as you can. As well there are exercises requirements for every day.” Her eyes drifted to me with intensity. “Both of you will be taking part.”
“You want me to do her birthing exercises as well?” I asked not to try and cause a mutiny, just curious.
“Would you rather her go through this experience alone?” Her slight smirk did not match the gaze that was burning through my skull.
“No of course not.” I grabbed the multicolored laminated piece of paper that she handed me. Tristen laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder. As I went to read the schedule, I had to brush aside a stray spiderweb that lay intricately on the paper.
How many times does something have to happen to you before you would find it odd? How many bugs would you have to see in your house before you called an exterminator? Like boiling a frog, if I had woken up one day encased in webs I would’ve been immediately alarmed. It was slow and gradual though. It started with a web occasionally in a doorway or lingering on an item someone would hand to me. I always found a reason to brush them off and looking back my level of ignorance was reminiscent of horror movie protagonists.
“Baby I think something is wrong,” My wife and I were doing the cat-cow stretch vacillating between the two positions. We had been doing an amazing job of sticking to the intense orders laid out by Gina the drill sergeant.
“What do you mean?” Her voice was muffled as she dropped into the child’s pose, her stomach bulging outwards and reaching the mat first.
“I don’t know how to say it.” The pose afforded me the ability to cover my eyes and not be distracted by my wife’s radiance.
“I think I know what this is about.” Having concluded our stretches, we lay flat on the ground. My wife’s athletic maternity wear read “Bun in the Oven.” Next to a cartoon depiction of a smiling oven with large eyes.
“I am willing to bet that you don’t.” As I lay flat, I pulled a large strand of web from my nose. I thought it may have been a nose hair at first but as I continued to scratch and pull an almost foot-long web exited my nose. I had become numb to this, the familiar explosion of nerves and fear I had felt my whole life regarding webs was now a dull tingle.
“Honey,” She continued to lay flat, but she turned her head towards me. I faced her as well but couldn’t maintain consistent eye contact. “I’ve seen how shaky you’ve been and on edge. I get it and I know it means that you care. But you need to remember that you are not your father. This child that we made,” She grabbed my hand and laid it gently on her swollen midsection. My fingers obscured the smile of the cartoon oven. It gave its eyes a newfound intensity that made it the second set of eyes staring at me. “You are the best partner, and you will be the best dad. You are giving me the family I wanted despite your fear, and I am grateful, and your love is everything to me.” She scooted her butt over inelegantly but still made it endearing. She laid her head on my chest by contorting her neck to still lay on her back. We lay there for a long time, and she quickly fell asleep. I played with her hair and as the sunlight streamed through her auburn curls, I tried to ignore the webs that clung to her scalp.
Our baby and the webs that formed around me grew in unison. It got to the point where any attempt to grab something was contested by a wall of sticky whisps that tried to halt me. My steps felt heavier and a weak invisible forcefield hindered me wherever I stepped. I didn’t care I was so fucking happy. Tristen was thriving and I refused to be the reason that a single cloud was cast in her sunny disposition. I had taken a long break from work, something that I was lucky to be able to do financially. My wife had done the same far earlier and we spent every day together. Basking in the glow of life and love. When I kissed her my mouth filled with webs instead of her saliva and it still brought me glee. I’ll leave you to speculate as to what came out of my urethra regularly.
On the day of my child’s birth, I had trouble getting out of bed. A thick layer was holding me down like a cocoon. It reminded me of the shroud that had covered the scrapbook that was now filled with pictures of my pregnant wife and me standing in the background. I would burst free from them soon hopefully. I wasn’t willing to put any of my focus on my condition, however. The only thing that mattered was my wife and what she needed.
As I lay in bed nearly succumbing to the force holding me down to our sheets. Threaded silk laid beneath me, and threaded silk also held me down. The boundary between me and the world afforded an air of silence that was only broken by my wife crying out.
“Honey, it’s happening!” Her voice broke through my cocoon, and I burst out rushing to her side. As I flew down the stairs, I noticed for the first time in months that no webs held me down. I was free perhaps from my neurosis or maybe the curse was being lifted by the arrival of my child. I didn’t care and I was so happy to see the dark stain on the carpet where my wife’s water had broken. Her growing smile matched the growth of the stain and I ran to my cellphone which was always charged and called Gina.
“Gina.” I nearly yelled into the phone.
“I understand,” Her voice was hurried but excited, and guessed my next words. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.” She hung up the phone and I rushed to check the whiteboard containing our intricate birth plan.
Gina arrived exactly 15 minutes late as she said, and my wife was lying in the tub. The soft melodic tones coming from our speaker set a peaceful backdrop in contrast to my wife’s screaming. I was doing everything I could to keep her calm. As she held my hand, she seemed to possess superhuman strength as she crushed my palm, and I heard cracks. Gina came in and quickly started bossing me around, which I was thankful for. As I did the various tasks I was assigned Gina coached my wife through the breathing that we had practiced 24/7 for nine months.
The birth was a long process and at multiple points, I questioned whether we should have gone to a hospital in the first place. Any mention of this caused a harsh stare from Gina. I trusted her and my wife and we would get through this. My wife lay in a pool of blood and shit that was beautiful if not smelly.
As we neared the end Gina prompted my wife,
“Push, Push.” She was fierce but in control and my wife did as she said. I started to see the baby’s head poke out of Tristen’s exposed vagina. As soon as I did, he nearly slid out and the ease made me feel much better for my wife. A long-pronounced scream emerged along with my child and Gina held it in her hands. My wife looked close to passing out, but Gina put all her attention into the screaming child, and as she did her face changed to a sharp smile that was hard to decipher. My wife’s heavy breathing did nothing to break Gina’s spell as she whispered something in my child’s ear.
“Gina!” I said rushing to my wife and trying to dab her forehead as she sat there trying to stay conscious.
“Jiim Jm the ba… the baby.” Her voice was strained, and her eyes were nearly in the back of her head.
“Mom and Dad,” Gina said resuming her usual expression but with a sweet smile spreading across it. “Here is your baby girl.” Her voice was sweet and thick, and she handed my wife the baby. “Dad, would you like to cut the cord.” I had barely noticed my girl let alone her chord in fear for my wife. As Tristen gave me a reassuring nod comforting the beautiful child on her breasts Gina handed me a pair of scissors. I grasped them tightly and then grabbed onto the chord. I nearly burst out laughing but instead spent some time cutting through the thick glistening nearly translucent web that ran from the placenta to my child. As I cut it the thick strand evaporated and I noticed the placenta floating in the pool that Tristen had produced.
It was an egg sack that despite being covered in blood glistened so brightly it almost seemed to glow. Dark indescribable shapes pulsated barely beneath the surface as Gina picked it up and replaced it with the child in my wife’s arms.
“You know what to do Mommy it’s ok,” Gina said before starting to blow playful raspberries on our still fluid covered infant causing bubbles of blood and viscera to escape from the corners of her mouth. My child in turn laughed and laughed. You know when you are in a dream and every action no matter how crazy seems justified. I had a vague dream-like notion as my wife started biting down on her placenta egg sack hybrid. Her teeth at first found it difficult to break through the viscous outer shell but then I heard a satisfying crunch as the sac “popped” and millions of small dark shapes slid down my wife’s throat like a landslide. She quickly ate the rest and some of the spiders were still skittering around her face and entering her sinuses and eye sockets as she said,
“Jim, we did it.”
My wife and child are currently sleeping and recovering from the ordeal of birth. I decided to share this story with you guys to let you know how proud of my wife I am and how excited I am for fatherhood. All my fears are gone as the webs once again increase around me pulling tighter and tighter. They are starting to enter my throat and lungs so I doubt I will be able to type much longer. My fingers are starting to have trouble pressing through to reach the keys and I think it is time to say goodbye. To my wife Tristen, you are everything and I am so glad I could give you what you wanted. And to my child Rosalind just know that daddy will always love you.