Happy, Happy, Henry Day!

February 7th 2003: Linda and I drove to Mount Sinai Hospital, but unlike the last time we made that drive, under those conditions, this time we did it … calmly.

Please note: This is a reprint. It’s the story of Henry’s birth though, and that means it’s important. 

Checking in, watching TV, and waiting patiently we knew it was all true. It’s much easier the second time around. Linda did her breathing, I gave her massages, pep talks, and distracted her with my rapier-like wit. She spent a lot of time in the big whirlpool bath. We went for long walks down dull hallways – avoiding eye contact with the tiny room, off to the side, out of the way. The nightmare room. The one marked “Parenatal Loss Room.”

We were calm. We’d done this before.

Finally, Linda knew it was time. The Nurse Midwife came in and Linda began to push (same one, coincidentally, who delivered our Maggie). Last time I spent my time at Linda’s head, glancing downward to watch the birth and keeping Linda calm and focused. I was more concerned with my wife than my child.

This time would be different. Linda and I both agreed to do it the opposite way. So, standing at the “main event,” I shouted encouragement at the head of the bed and kept both eyes on what was happening in front of me.

I watched it all while sitting on my haunches. Soon enough (not soon enough for Linda) he appeared. Quickly I held my hands beneath his emerging head, beating the Midwife by seconds. Linda screamed, and the midwife thrust her hands below mine, putting them there in case I missed orﾗplease pardon the analogyﾗfumbled my newborn son. But I got him and my grip was sure. My son slid into my hands like a high floater from Montana to Rice. Henry was in my hands. He gave a little cry, looked at me, and then was silent. Eyes open, blue like me, and looking up as if to say “Nice catch Dad! No touch down celebrations please.”

I whispered: “Shhh…” And then said, “hello Henry.”

Then I moved around the bed and introduced him to Linda.That was three years ago today and now my boy plays with dinosaurs, cars, trains, and loves Finding Nemo. “Heyyy dude!” he says, offering his fin and then conking me with his noggin’. He also loves Football.

Now I’ve got to teach him to catch. It’ll pay dividends later. When he (if willing) catches his own child and the cycle continues.

Happy third birthday my son.

I love you.

Tags: Misc