Red Alert!

I write this with one hand on the wheel, the other comforting Michelle’s contracting body, while we speed toward the hospital on the most important race of our lives thus far, after suffering through contractions 5 minutes apart, and 1 minute long for the last hour. Never have I seen such bravery as I now see on Michelle’s gritted teeth.

Happy as I was that we finally had a final deadline for this baby, I was sad that I was going to have to miss the mad dash, high speed race to the hospital, with – oh if dreams came true- a police escort! So how happy I was when I was awaken from my slumber with a desperate cry, “Adam!” the bag was packed, the contractions timed, and this little mathematician made every one of them count. We got a 5-1-1 exactly 1 hour after the very first contraction, so we leapt to the car at Michelle’s exclamation “it’s time to go to the hospital!” it was time for me to fulfill my duties as Man.

And fulfill i did. The 14 minute drive took 5 in our iridium-colored Honda. we entered the emergency room and got a surprised, befuddled look from the nurses behind the counter as if we were a pair of hippos in ballet tights. Had they never seen labor before? That’s when I uttered the line I’d been waiting for: “this woman is having a baby!”

And now here we are, just the two of us, in the spacious, hardwood floored delivery room, waiting for Michelle to get her drugs. There are no atheists in foxholes, nor do mothers become hippies in delivery rooms. I think she’ll have the strawberry-flavored epidural, please.

Here I sit, staring out over the Los Angeles morning traffic as i open my del taco breakfast burrito, and contemplate my future fatherhood. Michelle is resting back on her bed, baby still in womb, 6 cm dilated and going for the big 10, happily hooked up to the juice. I’ve never seen my wife so excited, like our anesthetist was Father Christmas herself, they could not get Miss chelle those drugs fast enough. She’s been talking about the juice since before our two little gametes met, and now, the day of her joy has arrived. I’m starting to wonder if The Juice is the whole reason she wanted to have a baby in the first place. But can I blame her? I’ve been eyeing this quesadilla for months now too.

Chapter 2:

Now that it’s 2 days and 10 diapers later, I ought to relate the rest of the story. So there I went up the elevator after eating my magic quesadilla, when I was stopped cold by security on the 4th floor.

“Sir, you can’t go in there” she said. They had tripled their detail in the last half hour.

“yes I can,” I said. “my wife is having a baby.”

“I’m sorry sir, but we’re at code 4” she said.

Not knowing what that meant, I said, “yeah? Well I’m at code 5.” then pushed past her through the doors.
(this is actually what I SHOULD have said, as pointed out by Cheatham)
Instead I asked what code 4 was. “child abduction, sir” said the guard.
What malevolence! She let me through after another minute and after I showed my ID, and I made my way down the hall, my eyes peeled for Baby Snatchers!

For they were sure to come, poised like vultures, waiting to snatch up what was certain to be the cutest kid this hospital’s seen.

When I got to our hardwood floored corner suite, the nurses said that Michelle had already turned it up from a 6 to a 10. What should’ve taken another 4-6 hours, in this Mommy’s cApable hands, it took 0.5. She’s all business.

Soon there was a flood of gear and people in scrubs in the room. I was confused and bewildered, having a vague idea of what would happen, but not exactly when. Then when they put Michelle up in the stirrups, that meant go-time. I held her leg like I was supposed to, and supported her neck, and the Doctor Su said ‘push’ and push she did. At that moment the baby was still just an idea, a mere suggestion, one that was just a lump, a prize behind door #3. Then I saw it: a lock of slimy black Italian hair. And Michelle pushed and pushed again. Auntie Esther, as our nurse called herself was a stellar coach. I saw a gray wrinkly thing come out, and there was more shuffling, and more pushing as Michelle strained and struggled valiantly, like a Valkyrie in battle, her eyes scrunched up and her face red as she pushed. Then we saw the head emerge, And squeezed out, a little wet, furry black orb. And then the doctor took both hands, and cranked that 1/2 kid around like he was turning a steering wheel. She had an eye! Even two! I was overwhelmed. I’ve never felt such a surge of awesomeness and genuine joy. This was better than water slides, or Half Dome, or outer space. This was Zion revealed! Hello, meet your child. There’s her face! She’s a human being! Then with another mighty push, Michelle squeezed that baby out, and compared to what she had done, that was easy street. The rest just slid right out. Suddenly this 1/2 human was whole! And she had legs! And arms, and the idea was made real! She was a person, and she was the convergence of Michelle and me.

Doctor Su asked me if I wanted to cut the cord. Indeed I’d like to participate in this pan-american right-of-passage ritual (thanks Watkins)! I grabbed the scissors and stabbed downward, like a knight striking a final blow, but this time a blow of life. Severed was the cord and now she was an independent, breathing, living person.

They put her on the warmer, and I trimmed up her belly button, pressing my hands to her, touching her as much as I could, and examining every inch. Feet! Toes! Fingernails! They were all there! Then we lay her gently on Michelle’s chest. Ive probably only seen Michelle cry about 4 times in the 3 years I’ve known her. This was number 5. She choked up. “she’s perfect,” she said. Michelle looked overwhelmed. I have never felt so whole.