Forced Smiles

Have you ever gotten to a place in your life when you are just waiting for that last thread to snap? That place where uncertainty rules the day? If you have then this segment may be written for you.

In the course of 30 days my life has morphed into an unrecognizable form. The biggest flop of my career took place two days before the greatest achievement of my life was born. In that moment of failure I had an epiphany; I am subject to the ridicules of history. The moment my daughter was born I had another epiphany; I have a chance to teach. My daughter is not my chance to right all of the wrongs in my life. My daughter will benefit from the errors that I made. Hopefully she will be wiser than her father who had to learn from his own mistakes.

Since her birth I learned how to deal with the most awful of all human emotion, worry. She was born amidst a presidential address by George W. Bush. From 7pm-8:05pm ole' W spoke about the woes of the world in regards to fossil fuel, filibusters, and fighting. At 8:01 my baby girl was born to the sound of his slant-mouthed, Texas accent. The worries of others may have been focused outside of their homes to those less fortunate or how they could afford their 10 mile/per gallon Hummers. I was worried about my daughter.

Through tears of pride and happiness I could see the medical staff's smiles fade. There was something wrong.
"Her breathing isn't normal."
"She has a slight deformity."
"She may need to be transported to another hospital"
Tears of pride and happiness were replaced with a much more bitter form of worry and fear.
"Dad, you can go with her. But, mom, you will have to stay"
We took our first family picture with forced smiles attempting to hide the truth. It amazes me how people can do this, fake smiles for photos. Who are they trying to trick, themselves mostly I suppose.

That first night, when mother's are supposed to allow the baby's to suckle, I had to hold my daughter alone. Holding her was a difficult maneuver due to the web of wires and tubes. She needed her mama. I would have to do.

We stayed in the Newborn Intensive Care Unit for three nights. Following the surgery, we stayed in a room located in the Burn Unit. These units were full of those less fortunate. For our daughter had a minor imperfection called an Ompalocele. This is where part of the bowel does not fully drop into the abdominal wall. She had a simple surgery and will recover completely with no physical or emotional remnants of the condition or the surgery. Her roommates were not all so lucky.

As we left the hospital that Monday morning on the 2nd of May, we thanked God. Our baby would be just fine. She would live a normal life from now on. Our fear and worry of death or prolonged suffering was replaced by a worry that infects all loving parents. However, the fear of worry and death had not walked away from those other parents whose children's prognoses may not have been as positive as Ansley's. We were fortunate.

It is now the end of the month. Ansley will be 4weeks old on Thursday. We are moving into our first home this weekend and couldn't be more excited. Throughout this month the ropes that held up my old childless, mortgageless, videogame player self have begun to snap. There is only one strand left.

Daddy's Girl 

Being Shat Upon

I recently became a father for the first time, to my recollection, on April 28th, 2005. Just like I was warned, everything changed. Lack of sleep, tollerance for ear-piercing cries, and no more nookie. However, the most drastic change in my life is my increased ability to withstand the bodily functions of the human baby.

Story. When I was in middle school, I had to give up my miniature schnauzer puppy because I would gag and vommit everytime it shat on the floor. I couldn't clean up after it and therefore had to relieve myself of the duty. Needless to say the thought of cleaning crappy diapers was somewhat disconcerting. Everyone told me "Oh it is different when it is your own flesh and blood." BS! It is still crap - by the way, the scoots are common among newborns.

Last week I was changing my beautiful baby girl. I had wiped and was about to apply the fresh, clean diaper when disaster occurred. Some unknown force gripped my child tightly around the abdomen and squeezed her colon firmly and quickly. I didn't see the phantom and thus was unprepared for the consequence. I was shat upon from a distance of approximately 2 feet. Completely horizontally. Awesome!

I was waiting for the vommit or gagging to commence. Nothing ever came. I realized at this point, with pumpkin-orange poo on my shorts, that I had officially become an adult. I had been initiated into the fraternal club of fathers. Yippy Skippy. Since then, I have been spit upon, peed on, and projectile vommit has landed warmly on my shirt.

I love being a dad.