Twelve years old.....
Twelve years ago, at 6:00 a.m., my Wonderful Wife and I walked into St. Peters hospital and headed to the delivery room.
Actually, we went to have the birth induced. Neither of us knew if a boy or girl was coming and neither of us really cared. You always hear parents say that they don't care what sex the baby is, as long as its healthy, but until you are the one standing there, I don't think most actually believe that...but when the moment of truth comes, and all those "possible's", the unspeakable fears start filling all corners, edges and center of your mind, the terror makes that statement an unquestioned reality.
I swore I would never be present at the birth of my child.
I was single then, of course, and had watched a few too many episodes of " Married with Children"...
Never thought that was possible, either.
It was not going to happen. Birth was a woman thing. I would be outside the delivery room, laughing and joking, while passing out some pretty awesome cigars. Men were not designed to actually witness something like that. Nope. It would not happen. My resolve, resolute...
But I was not going to have children either. That would involve the concept and pending reality of actually growing up. Great in theory, for the million or so other men out there.
Funny how all that stuff dissipates when you fall in love...
One moment, all those treasured illusions are immutable facts. The next moment, you are staring into a pair of of amazingly gentle and beautiful brown eyes and can't even picture the possibility of not being present when your child arrives...
The " You" becomes the " We".
This defies all logic. I am not a doctor and never have played one on T.V.
As was demonstrated in birth # 2, if something goes wrong, there is absolutely nothing that I can do to fix it. Complete and utter powerlessness.
But you stand in that room, anyway...
You hold a shaking, pale hand while repeating a hundred year old litany that everything will be all right. Every prayer you have ever heard is in your head, fighting the images from the thousand episodes your Wonderful Wife HAD to watch, from shows like "When birth goes incredibly wrong" and " Delivery Nightmares" on the Lifetime channel...
You pretend your not terrified.
She pretends she's not terrified.
Enough goes wrong to scare the hell out of you both, but the big things go right, and eventually an amazing little baby is withering his way out.
There is no stopping him, now...
You watch the baby pop out with a LOT of other stuff...
Instead of being grossed out, you see this tiny human being...
Your eyes frantically try to inspect all the little fingers and toes while concurrently trying to see if it is a boy.. or a girl..
The nurse gets it wrong and you wonder how she ever ended up delivering your baby...
They said nothing would ever be the same, but they failed to add the word " remotely"...
So now it is twelve years later.
This ultrasound-newborn-infant-baby-toddler-preschooler-elementary/middle schooler stands before you a young...man?
Those twelve years flash thru your mind like a Rolodex/ photo slide show, as you try to pinpoint the exact moment, this moment, happened..
He is not a child anymore...
I think about God a lot, these days.
Thoughts of gratitude, thoughts of grace.
One thought pushes out all others. The thought of Him sending his only Son, Jesus, to die a horrendous substitutionary death for all of us.
I was in the military and swore an oath to sacrifice my own life, if required.
That was not a big deal. I still would, if called.
But weeks/ months before Nick was born, my Wonderful Wife and I had the "conversation".
What we would do if it were a choice between the baby or her..
That is a terrible conversation to have. Necessary, but terrible.
I promised this amazing lady I love with all my soul that I would choose...the baby.
Both of us were holding back tears and swallowing down magically recurrent lumps in our throats. We prayed with all our hearts that this would never need transpire, but we faced the possibility, eyes wide open.
I wondered if I could have followed thru on that, but one look in my Wonderful Wife's eyes showed that she would never be able to bear my making any other choice, could probably never look at me again or forgive me for choosing differently..
I would follow her wishes. If necessary, I would sacrifice my Wife for our child...
I hope she would choose the same, with me..
We watched "The Passion of The Christ" many years ago. There is a scene were Jesus stumbles carrying the cross. Mary sees Him fall and flashes back to a memory of him falling as a child. His hair was curly, just like Nicks was, at the time. I watched that scene and thought of my son.
No way.
Not for anyone. No question. Not for the entire world.
God loved us so much that he sacrificed the Son that he loved as much ( if not more ) than I love my son, for people who hated and despised Him...
I cannot come close to comprehending a love like that...
I can barely comprehend that in one year, I will have a teenager!
We have been so blessed.
I love you Nicholas! Hope your Birthday is awesome.
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