Fast asleep in my oh-so-comfortable bed early in the morning on what looked to be a lazy Sunday, April 29, I was awakened by Mrs. Blackwell.
"Honey, I'm pretty sure my water broke," she said matter of factly.
At 36 weeks pregnant, this was not an altogether surprising wakeup call.
It was 6:11 a.m. and the last time I would see my bed for five days. Mrs. Blackwell still hasn't seen her bed.
Stories about babies being born are often peppered with funny anecdotes. Dad packing the car with all the things they'll need for the hospital but forgetting to pack things for the baby. Or maybe in their excitement, the parents to-be take a wrong turn and get lost on their way to the hospital.
|"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
Mrs. Blackwell and I enjoyed no such hijinks. Bags had been packed for weeks, including bags for our baby boy and it's a 12-minute drive from our front door to the hospital, which also happens to be located just blocks from my office. A detour for Egg McMuffins notwithstanding, our trip to the hospital was a calm and deliberate A-to-B endeavor.
We rolled into the hospital and were promptly taken to a private room. Nurses and doctors were informed and we were on our way to baby town.
Here, our story diverges from the path taken by most. And, frankly, why wouldn't it? Mrs. Blackwell and I, it would seem, are involuntary adventure seekers of the highest order. So, no ordinary delivery will do for us. No sir.
For now, I'll skip these exciting details, the literally sleepless nights, the crash courses in medicine delivered on the fly by an endless stream of doctors, surgeons and nurses. The not knowing. The little benchmarks of good health that many of us take for granted every day
me included that become central to your existence.
I won't get into the details of watching my son being taken away from his mom just hours after he was born and sent by himself to a hospital two hours away. I can't provide the details of my solo midnight car ride to meet my boy at that hospital
it's been reduced to a two-hour blur in my mind's eye anyways.
As I figure the best way to say them, I'll put these details down here.
For now, I'll just say my boy is in the hospital and recovering with his mom, who is also recovering nicely too. He's strong. He's beautiful and all those doctors, surgeons and nurses smile when they see him. They know he's going to be fine.
And so do we.