Profile
Photos
Comments
Just when I'm fresh out of ideas about what to write, along comes an email from our pal Looserobes in Utah: 'Guest Post?' is the subject, and it's always a breath of fresh air.
November 11, 1975 is seared into my brain, a day of wonder and astonishment. I may forget my wedding anniversary, my wife’s birthday, or even that most obnoxious of all holidays, Xmas, but I shall never forget or regret November 11, 1975: the day my daughter Devlyn was born.
Pacing the maternity waiting room, I fretted through the lead up to the birth of my first child. My wife was only having the baby; I was alone with a sputtering TV and out-of-date magazines. Unable to sit, I was vaguely aware of Alan Alda and his buddies on M*A*S*H airing from the institutional TV set perched on the suspended shelf above my head. We had not had the baby’s gender determined in advance. Would it be a girl or a boy? I agonized; I did not want a boy. There was the sound of the door from the area of the birthing room and out came my wife’s doctor. I jumped to his side. “They’re both okay,†he said, barely slowing his pace. “Is it a girl or a boy?†I pleaded. “They’ll tell you,†he spat, then disappeared through another door.
Left alone with this inadequacy, I felt slightly faint. I probably turned several circles in place, a witless silent film comedian. An eternity seemed to pass. My heart did flip flops. Finally, a nurse appeared. “You may come back now,†she said, smiling serenely. I followed like a stunned imbecile. We pushed through double doors into a long corridor, walked about fifty feet, and came to another set of double doors on our right. “They’ll be out in a moment,†she said before disappearing through the doors.
It was barely a minute before the doors opened. “Here’re your wife and daughter,†said the nurse at the front of the hospital gurney. A second nurse pushed them all the way into the wide corridor and I stared dumbly at my wife’s face, all that I could see of her. Next to her face, protruding from her swaddling clothes, was the beatific face of my newborn daughter, her skin olive, her hairy little head brushing against my wife’s chin. But it was her eyes that enthralled me, for they were looking all about, taking everything in, her calm awe contrasting with my own inner turmoil. It was almost more than I could bear. She was only minutes old, yet I stared down at a face filled with wonder and intelligence. I remember it as if it was just a few weeks ago.
I saw Devlyn the other day. She lives and works in Las Vegas. We drove down for the weekend. As far as I am concerned, she emanates the same wonder and intelligence today as on the day of her birth. It is all I can do to keep from crying at the sheer extraordinariness of it all, especially since she is now expecting a little girl of her own. We have come full circle. She may even have the baby this coming November 11th, a day I shall never forget.
