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This is a question Relief

Last week, I thought we'd run over and killed something. After steeling myself to get out and find the body of somebody's beloved pet, I found we'd squished a bin bag. When has something turned out not as grim as you first thought?

(, Thu 20 Dec 2012, 12:38)
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A man, his heart close to exploding like a pulsing grenade in his chest. He runs, slowing down as lactic acid builds up in his strained muscles and then speeding up again as adrenaline takes over; his gait, unbalanced, gives the impression of a man made up of two separate and distinct halves, each with their own rhythm.

His eyes burn as salty droplets of perspiration drop into them. His pupils, dilated, suggest drug use, but their huge size is due to the endorphins his brain is pumping out to combat the pain of his exertion. His mind is a crazy tangle of neurons, firing and refiring as unanswered questions and half-formed thoughts pinball through his cranium. What if? What happens...

His breathing is ragged and uneven. He is not a runner. He barely exercises, but he knows that he has to be there right now. Every extra second is like an eternity. He barely has time or capacity to wonder where he is; instinctually he makes for his destination, feinting here, swerving there, like a homing pigeon. He will remember little of this journey in years to come.

Through his streaked vision - every street light a halo, every traffic signal a disco ball shattering colours into a million shards of light - he sees the hospital and, with one final grunt of exertion, pushes himself towards its doors.
Once inside, he gasps his purpose through a dry throat, and is ushered - too slow! too slow! - to a room, in which people mingle and complicated machinery beeps with a regularity alien to nature.

What if? What happens...

He has a son. His first. The ache in his muscles disappears. His heart slows, but he still feels as though it could burst through his chest. He breathes, deep, gulping swallows of sweet air, refilling his lungs and failing to prevent him from crying. His tears grant him tunnel vision: all he can see is his wife and his son, nestled on her breast. He weeps without shame.
(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 15:26, 30 replies)
He is a gaylord.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 15:30, closed)
This should be the last line of the post.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 16:05, closed)
I fucking love you, Monts.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 21:24, closed)

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 15:35, closed)
Nicely written.
We adopted, so the whole meeting-your-kids-for-first-time was a completely different emotional affair.
(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 15:52, closed)
I was there for the birth of mine.
I was expecting some revelation like old chutney up there but I didn't really feel anything if I'm honest.
(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 16:03, closed)
I haven't got any...
and if that's the kind of limp-wristed ponce that fatherhood turns you into, I don't think I want any either.
(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 16:05, closed)
Nah Cap you'll be alright.
If you're not some boo-hooing poof to start with you're fine.
(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 16:48, closed)
I was given a bundle shortly after my first son was born
I had to suppress the urge to voice the thought that popped into my mind -- What am I supposed to do with this boiled monkey?
I came around when it was more apparent that it was a live human.
(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 16:53, closed)
They only start getting good at about 1yr old really.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 16:57, closed)
Disagree. Every day from the first is ace.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:38, closed)
Different circumstances eh.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:40, closed)
Yes. Of course. Forgot. Soz.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:49, closed)
Apologies on the internet?
(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:52, closed)
What a cunt eh.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:53, closed)
You certainly are!!!!!!11111!!!!!!!!

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:56, closed)

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:57, closed)
They're cute but dull as fuck for the first nine months.
You might as well have a puppy. At least you don't get in too much trouble if you forget to feed them or leave them to die in the cold.
(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:46, closed)
Or have sex with them.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:47, closed)
Ex. Actly.
(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:51, closed)
I think that's just you and Ian Watkins, Monts

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:48, closed)
Haha, yeah

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:49, closed)
So was I. Cut the cord and all that. Didn't get particularly emotional, just relieved both baby & wife were fine.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:37, closed)
Did you use your teeth?
The midwife wanted me to use some naff little safety scissors.
(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:53, closed)
I used a Zippo.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:54, closed)
It was like trying to cut through a garden hose pipe.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:56, closed)
With a golf ball.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:57, closed)
Hang on....

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 17:57, closed)
He slips a finger up the childs bumhole. His name is Rob Manuel.

(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 21:25, closed)
Oh yes.
I cried like a bairn too, when I first saw my kid. Without doubt the most astonishingly intense emotional experience of my life. Nine months of increasing fear and then small, damp, ugly, pink perfection. Waaaaaaah.
(, Fri 21 Dec 2012, 23:37, closed)

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