My baby boy was born last Sunday at 10:30 a.m. It would be difficult to describe the events of this past week even if I were allowed to write a book, so a three-paragraph blog entry will hardly suffice. Please accept a few snapshots from the past week:
1. Just days before my baby was born, I received an intriguing proposal from a friend. “Hey man, do you want to know if your baby is ugly? Parents just don’t know, and I’ll be honest with you about it, if you want.” My wife has prevented me from accepting his offer, but I remain intrigued. Ugliness Awareness is important. It is important to know whether my baby is hideous, in case I want to bring him out when people are eating or using heavy machinery.
2. During labor, I sat next to my wife as she writhed in pain. She was so impressive. I have passed several kidney stones, and once got a tattoo on my ribs, but I have never been half as tough as she was that morning. I wanted to do anything to alleviate her pain, and thought humor might work. At one point, she opened her eyes and found me standing up, staring at her. I waved my hands in slow motion, and spoke slowly. “This is all a dreeeeeam. You are not in paaaaaain. You are having fuuuuuuuuuun.” She was not amused. I sat back down and continued to hold her hand.
3. Soon after this, we were told that my wife was fully dilated. The doctor had prepared us to be ready for a C-section, so it was a shock to hear the nurse ask my wife to start pushing. I was tempted to ask “pushing what?” but wisely kept my mouth shut. Baby O arrived shortly thereafter, and I can say with confidence that he is a beautiful baby. I think.
4. Nearly two days after the birth, a nurse came to our room at 5am to draw blood from my wife. We had been up all night with an infant, so we were deep in sleep when she arrived. Because I was so tired, I almost missed that the nurse called my wife “Jennifer” or “Suzie.” I am not married to either of those ladies. My wife never noticed this, and began to roll up her sleeves and offer a limb to the nurse. While still lying face down on the couch like a hung-over frat boy, I threw a hand in the air and asked her to repeat the patient’s name. I yelled the words into a couch cushion. The nurse must have understood me, because she soon discovered that she was about to administer a blood test for the wrong patient. Whoops. I hope this nurse is never asked to bring babies to their respective rooms. They might never get there.
5. Baby O came home on Tuesday. We have had some glorious afternoons, several restless nights, and plenty of support. I now understand why people are unable to know whether their baby is ugly. He could have a neck beard and I would still call him beautiful. Then again, neck beards are underrated, and he can rock a neck beard with class.