By Bill Farrel
It was 4:30 in the morning and we were exhausted. Pam had been in labor for 24 hours but wasn’t progressing, while our firstborn’s heart rate was interrupted with every contraction. The pain and intensity of labor made it impossible for either of us to admit our fear until the doctor called for an emergency Caesarean section.
Terrible thoughts of what might be wrong ran laps in my mind. Much to my relief, my son’s umbilical cord was merely bunched up next to his head. There was no major damage, but he was born very blue. My first thought was, “We just gave birth to a Smurf!” During the life-giving ordeal, I felt helpless and useful at the same time. Helpless to stop my wife’s painful labor, yet useful in encouraging her through the process. Helpless to ease my son’s predicament, yet useful in holding him afterward. Little did I know this was a preview of how I would feel trying to be an adult parent to adult children.
Like many of you, I had little experience to draw on. I read books and asked other parents. They shared plenty of advice for raising young kids, but said little about my role when my kids grew up. In fact, it seemed everybody was guessing. Like them, I am now trying to figure out how to be the parent I want to be with kids who are no longer kids.
