Someone else's account...

I realize that it was a long time ago, but I don’t understand her unwillingness to rekindle feelings from old memories. It was the birth of our second child and a very long evening filled with every emotion capable to man and woman. I was at work when I received the phone call telling me that this time was really it, and that I’d better get myself to the hospital. When I walked in, there was her entire family gaping at me like some stooge late for a party. Her sister Terri was there with a camcorder to film what she kept telling me would be our last child. I never understood until now what she really meant by that. Basically, she was telling me then how I was slowly losing her and this baby was going to be named after her family as if she wanted to mark her for life. Her hair soaked with sweat, she laid there looking at me with contempt for obviously putting her in this position – labor. There was this enormous belly containing a precious little girl that seemed to be anchored in my wife’s womb since the doctor was pulling out every gadget he could find to pull her tiny body out. I laid cloths on Sara’s head to try and cool her off but it was to no avail. The stupid rag kept falling off her bloated head and my job for the evening seemed to be picking it up and putting it back on. I didn’t know what else to do since I was not the one chosen to hold the camera. Terri always seems to be forefront in Sara’s life – I’ve never been able to compete with her sisterly affection. Outside in the hall they were ripping up carpet, and putting down new. Have you ever thought about the germs that might be lingering in hospital carpet? Evidently, they found their way into my families’ birthing room since both my wife and baby laid in that hospital for days on end with staph infections. I made it my duty to forgo baseball practices and singing engagements so that I might be of some use there at the hospital. After all, I am the father. Finally, after two weeks I was able to bring them home and continue on with my normal schedule of activity. Oh yes, we named her Suzanna Grayce. She carries her mother’s, maternal grandmother’s and maternal grandfather’s name all wrapped up in one. Sara was definitely triumphant in that child becoming a very similar image of her.

Note from Dreamer: This is written from a witness' perspective about the birth of my daughter. Trying my hand out at crawling up into other peoples - I mean other character's heads and speaking for them. This take's lots of effort and I do not suggest crawling into an ex-husband's head for very long. It's a scary place!