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.