THE BIRTH OF MY SON

          I am thirty-five years old and I have been serving a twelve-year prison sentence. In my life I have experienced both good and bad things. I would like to tell you about one of the best things, the birth of my son.

          I remember it was a Thursday, at about one in the morning, when my wife told me it was time. I felt waves of panic because the expected time of the birth was the following week. We would finally have our baby after nine months of waiting.

 After coming to the hospital waiting room, we were taken to the Gynaecology Ward, to the Labour Suite. There I was given clothes to change into, a cap and shoes. I will never forget the shoes, because they were two sizes too big.  I then went to the Labour Suite where my wife was waiting. At three a.m. in the morning the delivery began. I saw that my wife was in pain, but she wouldn’t admit it. We cheered each other up. I wanted to help her through this pain, but I could only wipe the sweat from her forehead. I tried to help her by whispering things in her ears and stroking her hands and face. There were also deliveries in two other Labour Suites, but the women there seemed to shout nasty words which I would rather not quote. We were looking at each other and praying that everything would end well. After four hours of struggle, at nineteen minutes past seven, our child was born. It was obvious that I was in the right place. I had barely left the labour ward  and I was almost green. I needed some fresh air and a deep breath. My son weighed eight pounds and was fifty centimetres long, strong and healthy. What did I feel? The greatest happiness in the world and the relief that everything was over. I can still see his small face, hands and legs.

It has been almost thirteen years since that time and the memories will stay with me forever. My son is growing and he gets good marks at school. We have no problems with him and now he is graduating from primary school. He will soon outgrow me. I think that because of my participation in his birth we have a special bond. When he was an infant, it was easier for me to get up at night and feed him or change the diaper, maybe because I saw how much it cost him to be born. I remember his first steps, a first tooth and his gurgling in the bath. I used to spend every single moment of my life with him; we played football together.

 Unfortunately, his becoming a student I could only see in a photograph. I regret I can’t see how he comes back from school every day but I know it is my fault that I am in prison now. Nowadays, whenever I am permitted, I see my son in prison. I see my son growing. I still think about him, because I don’t want to lose this exceptional bond between us.

Anonymous

                                                                                  (Rzeszow, Poland)

Translated by Joanna Wisniewska