Leaving the hospital during the witching hour, I couldn't imagine going to sleep. I was aware of my exhaustion but awake, alert and ready to handle anything. I didn't know if they'd give us our baby. I didn't know if she was completely healthy. I was forced to leave her mother alone in a hospital room crying. How was I supposed to sleep?
I entered our apartment and was instantly reminded of the previous morning. It was like seeing years into the past. Everything had a different meaning. It was like walking into my childhood bedroom.
I was afraid to fall asleep. What if I overslept? I had never felt this sort of exhaustion before. I knew my girlfriend was wide awake. Alone. Thinking about me and our daughter and scared. If I wasn't with her at seven in the morning, I would fail to keep my first official promise as a father. I set two clocks and in the blink of an eye, I was up and leaving the house.
When I got to the hospital, I was happy we were together again, but still no baby and still no word. We could have been frantic, worried, demanding and panicked. But we had distractions. At last, we both had our phones, charged and ready, with a lot of explaining to do.
And the calls began. I could easily predict my parents' reactions but we were both a bit anxious about telling her parents. "Do you think they'll be mad? I don't think they'll be mad. They can't be mad, this was a miracle. Right?" Her mom had to take it in, collect her thoughts and call back. But she wasn't mad.
Everyone reacted with shock as I retold the story a half dozen times. Everyone was supportive and beautiful and for that I'll always be thankful. I remember talking to my best friend, telling him the tale, staring out the lounge window, drinking a cup of coffee and feeling like everything was all right; I had always known. I stood in amazement and felt the peace that passes all understanding. And cried.
No comments:
Post a Comment