Many years ago, Mary was admitted to the maternity ward well before her due date: her pregnancy had become quite complicated in the final weeks, and the doctors preferred not to take any chances. Moreover, she was preparing to welcome not just one child, but twins. The doctors suggested a scheduled caesarean, but Mary was determined to deliver naturally, so they agreed to try, knowing an operation could always be performed if it became necessary.
Additionally, Mary and her husband had arranged for a partnered birth, and the obstetricians werent keen on having outsiders in the operating theatre. Marys labour began late one evening; her husband was informed at once and arrived just twenty minutes later. We quickly moved them to the antenatal suite. It wasnt Marys first time giving birth, so she understood what was expected of her, handled everything with composure and sense, and at four in the morning, their first child was born.
The newborn let out a hearty cry, and the midwife congratulated Mary on the arrival of her first daughter. Yet, rather than beam with delight, the father managed only a feeble smile before turning his attention anxiously to his wife. Ten minutes later, the second little girl entered the world. Mary beamed with joy, but her husband broke down in tears, and not from happiness. Naturally, we worried, but Mary waved us off and explained:
Dont mind himhell be right as rain in an hour or so. You see, these are the fifth set of twins in our brood, and once again, we have daughters. He so hoped for at least one son, but it wasnt to be. Still, he dotes on his girls, so everything will turn out fine. And so it did: the next day, as we looked out the maternity window, there was that proud father leading a gaggle of charming girls, tying balloons and calling up to their mum that they loved her, and we realised this really was a happy family, though we couldnt help feeling a pang of sympathy for the father.
