Wow, what a surprising event: our son is celebrating his 54th birthday today. But I’m not sure if I can use “celebrating” without a festivity taking place. Or have I to use “taking place” only, or any similar expression for his having lived 54 years now.
If I remind myself of this day 54 years ago now, and I would be telling it, everyone of the current time would be shocked by my behavior decades ago. After having driven my wife – no, not driven, we hadn’t had a car at that time – I was also accompanying her to the hospital, handing her over to the nurses, then I was going to a pub to drink a couple of beers and calling the hospital every hour to wait for the message whether the birth process had been finished.
I think I was writing nonsense. After having gotten the message that my son was born and healthy, I was very happy and went to a restaurant or pub for a couple of beers and to have a fine dinner. At that time, you got it, it wasn’t possible to accompany and help your wife during that essential and existential phase of her life. Bluntly spoken, it was forbidden for the mother to care for the baby; it was only given to her to get milk, that means, for breastfeeding.
I, the father, was not allowed to take and hold my child. I could only see my baby via a window – not possible to touch it, not possible to kiss it. But my lonely dinner was a dinner of gladness about the new family member.