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A Sample Essay on The Most Memorable Day of My Life
I have had several great days, but the most memorable day in my life was on 26th December 2017 when I became a father to the most beautiful girl in the world. A sweet angel named Gillian Rose was born in the afternoon. My wife and I had been waiting eagerly for this day. Anticipation had been piling up for the last 9 months. Finally, some relief after months of planning, waiting and praying.
My wife had gone to the hospital the previous night after contractions had started. She was in panic mode since it was her first baby. I was terrified too; I didn’t know where to start. I had asked her to pack some baby clothes, shawls, blankets, and other items, one month ago. I like to be well-prepared. We even had a delivery plan. Unfortunately, when the contractions started, all the plans evaporated. I couldn’t even spot the baby items packed in the suitcase which was just right in front of me.
Our grandmother was around, she had come to stay with us and offer her experience during the last month of the pregnancy. She was God sent. She managed to calm me down and direct me on what to do. We had packed a very large suitcase for the baby items we had thought we needed. Our grandmother sliced the luggage we had packed by more than half. She was more relaxed, she told me, we had many hours before the actual delivery.
With the help of my grandmother, I called a cab. My grandmother and I assisted my wife to board the taxi. It was almost midnight, but at that time I couldn’t comprehend whether it was dark, or there were stars or the moon in the sky. The hospital was just a few minutes away from our house. My wife had been crystal, she will not deliver in a public hospital. She was afraid that the medical students will attend to her. In my country, sometimes medical students are left to make life decisions without the supervision of a senior attending physician. We took her to a private, mission hospital.
The mission hospital was at the top of its game. As soon as we pulled up in their emergency section, they acted very first. Before we helped her out of the cab, nurses were already waiting with a stretcher. Without the help of the nurses, I couldn’t lift her. She was big. She was put on the stretcher and escorted to the maternity wing. The contractions were making her uncomfortable, she was in pain but she tried to keep calm.
The nurse examined her and confirmed the process had begun. The nurse noted that it was still early, and since she did not have complications, she was advised to walk around the hospital to assist in the dilation process. My grandmother was beside her in the maternity ward. Men had limited access to the maternity room. We agreed with my grandmother, she will keep her company overnight and I will come back in the morning.
As I was going back home, my thoughts were still lingering over the pain my wife was going through. I realized that women are very strong and there is no amount of pain I had felt in my life could compare to hers. Deep down as a man, I felt responsible for her suffering. I had doubts if she would ever get over the nerve-wracking pain. I hoped the joy of motherhood was worth all this pain.
When I learned that my wife was expectant my life took a 360o turn, I became more responsible. The pregnancy caught me by surprise, it was not planned. I had always wanted to be a father, but deep within I had felt it was too soon. I took some time to think about it, and I realized, there wasn’t the right time. I thought about the joy of having a young one and the innocent smile of a toddler running around. This was a chance to be a better father than my dad was. These random thoughts spiked my interest to turn around my life and settle down for my child.
When I reached my house, it was dead in the night. The darkness and the emptiness of the house reminded me of my lovely wife. I wished; she was there with me. Her warm personality could have illuminated the house. Nevertheless, I knew she was waiting to cash in our bundle of joy. I was still worried about their well-being together with the baby. I had to call my grandmother and enquire if she had delivered. I was told she was still climbing stairs around the hospital to improve her dilation process.
I was exhausted from the running up and down and I hadn’t gotten any sleep that night. The anxiety and excitement I had, kept me from surrendering to the bed. I lay down on the couch as I waited for the phone to ring with the good news. My wife and I had embraced true Africanism, we didn’t check the baby's gender. The anxiety of having a boy or a girl was also keeping me awake. After much bargaining with the sleep, it won.
The following day, I woke up around six in the morning. I was hoping the baby had been delivered. I rang my grandmother to enquire about their welfare, but she did not answer. I rushed to the hospital to find out what was happening. She was still in labour and she had been dilating all night. I hung around the hospital waiting bay since the maternity ward was a no-go zone. I was worried the doctors might opt for a cesarean section if the natural way was not forthcoming.
While in the waiting bay, I realized my hair was overgrown. I had not shaved my head and beard since my wife got pregnant. I had gone on a shaving strike in solidarity with our pregnancy. I had told my wife; I will shave when she gives birth. I rushed to the barbershop, just next to the hospital. I wanted to be tidy for my child. My head and beard were shaved clean. One time, jokingly I had told my wife, I will shave when she gives birth. Maybe my hair was keeping our child waiting.
I rushed back to the hospital, but this time things were different. Her water had broken. She had been escorted to the maternity room. My grandmother had escorted her to the delivery room, she was beside her. In our country, men are barely around in the delivery room. I had to wait outside. I was in a panic. I tried to pray for their safety. I had jitters all over my body. The thought of becoming a dad excited me. A girl should be named after my mother and a boy after my father.
After what seemed like a lifetime of waiting, the nurse came with good news. My wife had delivered safely. I was allowed to see them. My grandmother had busted into praises. She is very religious. She was thanking God for the miracle of life. Although my wife was exhausted, she struggled to keep awake. She was happy to see me. I hugged her with joy, she told me it was a girl. I felt some relaxation, both of them were healthy. My daughter was beautiful, she looked exactly like me.
I wanted to hold my daughter so desperately. I took her in my arms, her eyes were closed. Then she started crying. I realized this was the first time I heard her cry. She had recognized my presence. I tried to soothe her by moving my arms in a calm rhythm. She gently lowered her voice as she relaxed in my arms. I felt a protective bond towards her. I wanted to be there for her. She was so tiny and helpless.
It was the time to name my daughter. My wife and I had discussed several baby names. We had not agreed on the name. We made a compromise; she was to come up with the first name since automatically the second name was to be my mother’s. My wife had settled on Gillian. She wanted our daughter to be youthful and energetic. We settled on Gillian Rose. I wanted my daughter to be free from the tribal name. She had two English names. This was the beginning of a new generation.
The long-awaited day had come to pass. I was overflowing with joy. Both my wife and my daughter were healthy. Indeed, I was blessed. I wanted to stay with them but the nurses were expelling visitors. They both needed ample rest. As I walked out of the room, myriad thoughts gnawed in my mind. I didn’t know how to be a father. I had always planned for everything. I wanted to lay out a parenting plan. I realized it's pretty complex and there were a lot of unknowns. I settled on taking one step at a time.
I went home immediately. I needed to plan for a homecoming party. I wanted to surprise my wife. I invited my family and a few friends. She deserved to be celebrated. She had conquered the struggles of motherhood. I thought how amazing it was to give new life. The thought of having someone look up to me fascinated me. I asked my sister to help me plan a pink-themed party.
This day was permanently inscribed in my mind. The day that I became a father. I was excited and worried at the same time. The feeling of seeing my daughter for the first time was priceless. This day will forever be memorable in my life.
