...a son is born

Dear Augosto.

One year ago, we finally met.

I still remember your mom waking me up at 0'dark thirty.

It was Sunday night/Monday morning and I hadn't been asleep more than an hour or so.

Truthfully, I barely felt like I just closed my eyes when your mom tapped me on the shoulder and said, "I think my water broke."

As I threw on my clothes, I called the triage nurse and asked if we needed to take you in or if we could keep you at home a while longer. (this is what i learned to ask in my "how to have a baby" class.).

The nurse said to bring you in, so we loaded up in the car and drove all the way to the hospital. Luckily, it was only 5 blocks away!

I'd be lying if I said it was all a blur from there.

I remember every bit of it.

I remember the potocin.

I remember the nurses coming in and out.

I remember your mother reciting Shakespearean monologues as the pain and the pressure increased.

I remember yelling and crying, "Push. Push. PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSH!!!"

I remember losing my voice as I held your mom's hand.

I remember the nurse telling your mother to keep pushing.

I remember being moved into another room as the doctor's prepared for a C-section.

I remember your mom's sweaty hands and my sweaty forehead.

I remember the forceps and then seeing you.

I remember watching them put you under a heat lamp as they cleaned you. It took a few seconds but it felt like a million hours.

I remember holding you for the first time and posting your arrival on Facebook!

Happy Birthday, son.

Love.

Dad.