Our first birth of 2026—anticipation was high. The day before, we saw each other at the practice, and everyone had the feeling that your birth was in the air.
The next morning, your parents still had friends over for brunch, and they saw them off with the first waves of labour. It was a Saturday—about as wintry as one could wish for, if you like winter. It kept snowing and snowing.
When your parents called me, I set off straight away. While I was on my way, I briefly considered buying a birthday present for my daughter and then driving to your parents. But after the first few metres, I realised that was not a good idea and drove directly to you at a snail’s pace.
Shortly beforehand, I informed your parents that we should drive straight to the hospital, as the chaos in the city would only increase. With your parents in the car—Mum breathing in deeply and out slowly with each contraction every five minutes—we drove past cars already stuck across the tram tracks.
Hardly had we arrived when your birth progressed. You settled yourselves in the bathtub. From the outside, it looked relaxed. And so it happened that your birth drew closer in the early evening.
Snow was piled up against the window of the delivery room, and the small inner courtyard glittered in its winter-crystal dress. It was a beautiful atmosphere, and I was delighted as your mum touched you.
A short time later, you were born into Mum’s arms, and Dad beside her was delighted with you!
Your placenta was a little more stubborn: it was divided into two parts, and unfortunately only the first part detached completely. So we then had to perform an operation on Mum. During this time, you cuddled with Dad, and the atmosphere remained calm throughout.
Welcome, little Erdmann. It was a pleasure to be there.