I should have called my parents hours ago to let them know that my wife went into labor and they now have a granddaughter, but every time I try to reach them, I can't press the last button. I can barely keep it together wondering what is going to happen, fearing that this is going to be the one and only day I get with her.
How can I put my parents through that?
She insisted we play checkers, the only board game available behind the nurses station. After a few initial moves, she played like Beth Harmon at the chess board, beating me with ease. She's smart as a whip. I've given up on trying to understand how. At this point, I'm just along for the ride.
Blossom looks so much like her mother. Same hair, same nose, but she has one of my blue eyes and the other is the same green as her mother. When I look at her, only the eye reminds me of myself. The nurses say otherwise, but they are in and out of the room so much, I don't put much faith in their opinions.
"I'm going to lay down for a bit, Dad. Don't cheat and move your pieces." Blossom says to me as she moves to her bed and curls under the light blanket.
She sleeps is brief, three of four minute spurts, and during those moments, she grows the most. From my seat at the table between the two beds, I can see both my girls, sleeping soundly, beautiful as fairy-tale princesses waiting for their prince to kiss them and awaken them.
If only the sedatives my wife had been given would wear off, I'd have someone else alongside me on this nightmare, but how do I do that to her. She would wake up with only having had one brief minute to have held her baby. Years of time with her baby were stolen away from her while she slept. No first steps. Not first word. No experiences that she could treasure for the rest of her life.
I did record videos of most of these precious events, or nurses did for me, but it wouldn't be the same. One of my worries before Blossom was born was work keeping me from spending as much time with my family as I would like. Fathers are expected to miss most of their children's first. Somehow, this unusual birth allowed me an opportunity I wanted to feel blessed by, but couldn't. And my darling wife had no chance to experience these moments for herself. How could she not feel robbed?
Deep thoughts always get me in trouble. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, finding my parent's listing.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring. It is four in the morning, after all.
My throat is thick, but I manage to speak when I eventually hear them pick up on the other end of the line. "Hi, Dad. Can you wake Mom up? I need you both to come to the hospital as soon as you can."
6AM
"I want to go outside!" Blossom shouted and stomped her feet on the ground hard enough the rabbit ears on the slippers my mother brought for her bounced. "I've been in this room my whole life. I want to see outside."
When my parents arrived, Blossom had grown to the point she could easily pass for a woman in her twenties. I definitely wasn't prepared for the double-takes the young custodian gave her when he mopped the hallway outside her room. I pulled the shade down as he peeked in through the window, shouting, "Get your eyes off her. She's only 5 hours old you sicko!!"
Whatever they gave my wife had worn off, so she, my mother and wife sat on her bed and talked. My wife never ceases to amaze me. I expected her to be inconsolable, but somehow she took the entire event in stride after crying for a few minutes after being introduced to her 6ft tall daughter. To all our surprise, her first words to Blossom were "Thanks for waiting to grow so big until after you came out of me."
I never realized how much I needed laughter in my life before that moment. Blossom blushed and nodded as she said "You're welcome". My parents and I were in tears as if we just watched that one scene in Steel Magnolias when the one old woman poked fun at the crazy southern lady just after the funeral.
My father must have seen the shock on my face at Blossom's first tantrum. (I guess my wife didn't miss that first after all.) "Tell you what, sweetheart, I think there is a garden area down on the first floor. We can take the elevator down and go see the flowers there."
"An elevator!" Blossom jumped and clapped, the storm of her frustration replaced by radiant sunshine and glee. She grabbed a hand of each of my parents and dragged them to the door. "I've never been on an elevator either. Let's go Grandpa."
I give him a worried look, the only look I think I still have in my arsenal, but he waves me off and mouths "It will be OK" to me as Blossom pulls them out of the room. Fortunately, my parents brought a pair of bright pink sweatpants and matching shirt for Blossom to wear. I didn't have to worry about her flashing her backside to any looming perverts in that hospital gown at least.
"This reminds me of an episode of Star Trek: TNG. I think it was even named "The Child"," my wife said to me.
"Really," I reply. "You want to talk old sci-fi right now?"
Her face cracks for the first time and I see the same worry I have on her face. "Yes. Because those shows usually have a happy ending-", she grabs my hand tightly into her own, "-and I need to believe I can have one of them too..."
I slide into bed beside her and return her grip until I can get close enough to wrap an arm over her shoulder. I pull her close and let her release her fear into my chest, trying but failing to keep my own restrained from pouring out onto the top of her head.
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