I know that some of you have heard the rumors, so let me clear up a couple of things:
1) yes, I was writing the last e-mail as Sally was going into labor;
2) yes, I did stop on the way to the hospital to run a couple of errands (HEY, I got stuff to do!).

Um, that last part may or may not be a relevant part to this little narrative.

Continuing where I left off, our neighbors had gathered outside to see us off. When they saw the three of us shuffling toward the car, they knew and were shouting words of encouragement to us (encouragement may be a strong word: more like encouragement to my wife and harassment to me).

Now, of course, the one time I have a legitimate excuse to speed, there was no one out to even pull me over. It actually wasn’t my intention to speed, however, there is something about a woman gripping your arm and screaming how she can’t do this and this thing must come out of her now that makes one’s foot hit the accelerator.

The usual procedure, for those of you who don’t know, is that when you first check into the hospital, you are wheeled into the triage area so that they can assess if you are really in labor (this is where we spent the night before) and then they roll you into “labor and delivery” where you get your epidural and you deliver your baby. It’s all good. They put my wife on the bed in the triage, start to check her, and the nurse says ‘oh my.’

As an aside, allow me to list for you all the circumstances the words ‘oh’ and ‘my’ can be used consecutively by a medical practictioner of any sort in a way that is re-assuring:

Anyway, apparently my wife, in her bid to not have to wait around forever in triage only to be sent home again (watch carefully folks, blink and you’ll miss it, as I make this her fault and having nothing to do with my running errands) waited just long enough for the action to start immediately. That’s my way of politely saying that neither of us had time to be drugged before everything started rolling (you can check this by seeing the time that I sent the last e-mail and compare it to the time of the birth). Then things turned into a bad ER episode as our room was flooded with people (at one point I counted 11), and the resident said that he might have to deliver the baby since our doctor, despite being only across the street, might not make it on time.

I will spare you the details of what happened next and leave you with a few of my take home lessons:
-I am a lot less amusing when my audience is passing something the size of a bowling ball
-despite the fact that at no point did she use profanity, had I brought out my miner’s helmet or catcher’s mitt like I had planned, I would’ve found them lodged in such a manner as to make it difficult for me to walk
-nothing good happens when scissors are by one’s genitals (first learned during a particularly gruesome–putting to death the idea of birth as a ‘beautiful act of nature’–moment involving my wife, then re-learned a day later at circumcision time)
-the hospital won’t discount your stay if you skip the drugs (I won’t tell you at what point during the delivery I tried those negotiations)
-I thought, during the entire course of the pregnancy, that we were having a girl. For the record, a woman is never too tired or in too much pain to point out when you are in error (and say ‘I told you so’)
-and finally, a typical exchange during our (thankfully)–and mind you, I say ‘our’ as if I had to do anything except have my hand be crushed by hers–brief labor:

“Honey, breathe”
“I can’t”
“Push”
“I can’t”
“Relax”
“I can’t”
“Open your eyes”
“I can’t”

-in the end, it doesn’t matter if it was a boy or a girl or how light he is (though i’ve been assured that his pigmentation will come in over the next week or so, for those who saw him within the first days. hey, here’s a factoid for you: you can tell how dark you’re going to get by checking your testicles)*. all that matters is that everything was there:
1-2-3-4-5
1-2-3-4-5
1-2-3-4-5
1-2-3-4-5
1 (woo-hoo!)

So, for those who care (READ: women), here are the vital statistics:
Maurice Gerald Broaddus the second (aka “Reese”, not “junior”, not “li’l Mo”)
born on Mother’s Day, 5/13/01 at 5:50 pm
6 lbs 13 oz
19 1/2 inches long

*This has since been proved to be a hideous lie. Thought up by nurses to taunt and get back at me for pretended to be angry when they first showed me a white baby.

###
Comment on this bit of rantus interruptus anyway you want (I don’t know where you’re reading it from) or just do so at my message board.