When my husband and I decided for home birth, I expected a calm and intimate experience surrounded by soft music, soothing voices and people who really supported us.
What I did not expect was to be at work while I tried to solve the secrets – the one that included strange sounds, tricky behavior and the persistent scent of vanilla in the air. It seemed like something from a bizarre comedy.
And in the middle of it all? My too enthusiastic sister -in -law, who insisted that she just had to be there to “help”. But help, as I soon found out, meant something very different from her.
When my husband and I decided to be born domestic, my father -in -law was stubborn about the present.
She said she wanted to “help” and “support” us during experience. When I thought it would be nice to have it, I agreed.
But as soon as I went to work, I noticed something special. My sister -in -law was constantly slipping out of the room and looking over her shoulder every time she had a secret errand. Then, during the break between the contractions, I heard a strange noise coming from the kitchen.
I asked my husband curiously and a little annoyed to check it. He nodded and got out. When he came back, his face was pale and his eyes with distrust.
It turned out that when I worked in one room, my father-in-law had her own kind of “work”-baked a cake in the kitchen.
Yes, it brought all the ingredients, baking pelvis and even a blender. Her idea of ​​support was the preparation of a home cake to celebrate the advent of the child. When my husband stood amazed there, she happily told him, “I thought it would be nice to have a fresh cake ready when the baby came.”
When he told me what he was doing, I was impressed. Here I went through the most intense and painful experience of my life – and she was in the kitchen and whipped the icing, as if it were a festive assembly.
I was furious first. Didn’t she understand how stressful work was already? But then I started laughing in the middle of the contraction. The absurdity of the situation was too great.
After the child was born, she proudly walked and held a beautifully decorated cake that read: “Welcome to the world”. I couldn’t help but smile, even though I was still a little irritated by her unconventional idea of ​​support. It was definitely one of the most bizarre – yet strangely heartfelt – moments of this unforgettable day.
Now it insists on baking the same cake for our child’s birthday every year. It has become a running family joke and a sweet tradition. Sometimes it is the strangest experience that leaves the most valuable memories.
In the end, what began as an incomprehensible and slightly angry experience turned into one of the most valuable traditions of our family. The idea of ​​supporting my mother could have been unconventional, but her sincere gesture left a lasting impression.
The cake, born of flour, icing and a lot of incorrect enthusiasm, now symbolizes the beginning of our child’s life – and a unique way in which love appears in the moments we least expect. Sometimes it is unpredictable, unexpected acts of care that ultimately mean the most.