RICK JACKSON: The magic of hearing our babies cry
There was fantastic footage this week of an American soldier watching his wife give birth to their first child on FaceTime as he was away on duty. Ah, the wonders of modern technology.
His flight home was delayed so he knew he wouldn’t make the birth, but was able to watch on-line.
His expression was priceless as his daughter slowly arrived, a mixture of winning the lottery and being on the world’s fastest rollercoaster.
Some say this is the most magical moment in life. Others say it’s hearing their child’s first word.
Other magical moments in life include falling in love for the first time and getting married.
Not for me. The most magical moments in my life were hearing my children cry for the first time. Nothing has ever come close.
I was anxious from the moment my wife first told me she was pregnant. I’m a bit of a worrier at the best of times, but hoping that everything runs smoothly for both mother and baby can be overwhelming for a helpless man.
Every time Sarah felt some discomfort or something didn’t feel right during the pregnancy, my fears would increase, even though I had to use my poker face to hide my feelings so as not to worry her unduly.
Sarah’s labour with Freddie was rather long as he had gone back-to-back. From entering hospital one afternoon in May, it wasn’t until the next morning Freddie finally arrived.
My heart missed several beats from the moment he arrived to when I heard his first cries. Such relief. Sarah was fine, Freddie was fine and all those emotions came flooding out.
It was the same when Holly was born. She arrived by C-section but still, the only moment I could start relaxing and enjoy my baby daughter was when she started to cry. Again, that emotion was overwhelming.
As Freddie turn four this month, those memories are still so vivid. I’ve been a lucky boy so far in life with many magical moments, but those two are simply the best for me.
FERGIE MANAGES TO UNITE FOOTBALL
The clashes between Sir Alex Ferguson’s Manchester United and Arsene Wenger’s Arsenal were legendary, but as the Frenchman visited Old Trafford for the last time as their manager, Sir Alex welcomed him with open arms and a fine bottle of red wine.
As news broke a week later of Sir Alex suffering a brain haemorrhage which required a life-saving operation, the football world united in its support, even at arch rivals Manchester City.
It’s pleasing to see such respect and admiration survives in football no matter the colour of the shirt.
I wish the greatest British football manager of all time a full and speedy recovery. Let’s hope there is plenty of ‘Fergie Time’ left.
I WON’T INFLICT MY SPARE TYRE ON ANYONE
Is it really necessary every time the sun comes out for some men, no matter what their shape or size, to feel the need to go topless?
Do we really want to see bulging biceps and rippling six packs?
Do you see photos of ‘Dan and Liam, both 20’ splashing in the water in The Sun like you do ‘Hannah and Sophie, aged 21’? No!
The worst thing is men without said physical attributes feeling the need to show us their bellies and moobs. And please, don’t get me started on tattoos! ‘Made in Portsmouth’ around the belly button is not a good look in most people’s book.
Maybe it’s just me, but I feel no one should be subjected to seeing my life-saving apparatus!