But there was no laugh. Not even a groan. In fact, I was so wrapped up in my handsomeness that I didn't even notice that she wasn't in bed when I got up.
So I made my way downstairs to find her on the computer, undoubtedly looking at porn.
Me: "What'cha doing down here?"
My Wife: "I'm in labor." And, just like that, my day changed…sort of.
Me: "I'll grab the bags."
My Wife: "No, don't do that. I think I'm going to go to work. I have some stuff I want to finish up before the baby comes."
Are you kidding me?
For those of you who know my wife, what she lacks in common sense (like labor = hospital) she makes up for in amazing organizational skills and calmness. Note: What I lack in calmness and organizational skills, I make up for with handsomeness.
Rather than drag out an argument, I decided to go along with her and head to work like a normal day—got showered, dressed and fed Ella. (But I put the bag in the car for good measure.) We hopped in our Toyota Matrix and cruised to work.
By lunchtime we were in the delivery room at Good Samaritan Hospital. By dinnertime we had our second beautiful baby girl.
Now I need to put some of this in context: With the first delivery, we were in the hospital for 8 hours, Brittany pushed for about two and a half of them and my arms were ready to fall off from holding her legs. This time we were in the hospital for about 3 hours, Brittany pushed for all of 10 minutes and my arms were filled with enough life to celebrate the birth with several hearty fist pumps.
What followed was kind of a blur. People were coming in and going out. Everyone was hugging. Folks were snapping pictures left and right. Brittany finally got to drink a Pepsi—something she was really craving. And the new baby brought her big sis a little present: Sylvia the Cabbage Patch Kid. Needless to say, big sis immediately fell in love with her baby sis.
This new baby was smooth, squishy and soft—and had great timing: My wife's entire family was in town for her sister's wedding shower. The only one who doesn't have great timing is the baby's father, who has taken four months to write about her.
Now that I'm settled in, I'm ready to share more stories (and there are plenty of them). So welcome to The Life of Dad 2.0. Hope the past four months have been as wonderful for you as they have been for me—minus the hundreds of dirty diapers.