Last night was Dancing with the Stars (I’ll get to that on Monday). The show was held in a really tall auditorium with really steep steps. Andrea (Noah’s mom) showed up nine months pregnant and I’m sure had a fun time waddling her way to her seat which was half-way up. Her husband Chappy looked like he was ready to throw her over his shoulder and bolt at any moment. I’m sure they were both just waiting for her water to break. The show started and ended (stop pushing me, I said I’d get to it Monday!) and they were safe. Good to go.
They took Noah home with them and I went out to eat with Krista and her family. Larken came with and we ended up chatting in her car till well after midnight the way good friends do. I made it home around one, and answered emails until I could no longer keep my eyes open at 2:30 AM.
I brushed my teeth and then fell into bed. Completely exhausted.
Mmrmrggrmgh. My phone was ringing. Are you kidding me?
I picked it up. It was Chappy (Noah’s stepdad).
“DAN ANDREA IS IN LABOR WE’RE GOING TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL CAN YOU COME GET NOAH OH MY FREAKING GOSH HECK CRAP THE BABY IS COMING BLA BLA BLA.”
Why are you screaming at me dude? I rolled over and looked at the clock.
“ANDREA’S SISTER CAN HELP BLA BLA BLA BLA!”
Why are you screaming at me dude? I knew he wasn’t yelling, but it sure seemed like it. I had no idea what he had said at that point except that the baby was coming. My brain was very angry at me. And at my sleep’s intruder.
“SO WE’RE LEAVING FOR THE HOSPITAL IN ABOUT AN HOUR. BLA BLA BLA!”
I tried to open my eyes. They wouldn’t open.
I tried to say something in response. My mouth wouldn’t move.
I had no idea what Chappy was asking me. Or if he was asking anything. I finally forced my mouth to form a few words.
“Just tell me what you need from me bro.”
“Can you come get Noah?”
Mmrmrggrmgh. “Sure.” And then to punish me my brain gave itself a good beating. My head throbbed in pain as I lay nearly comatose trying to wake up.
I don’t think I ever said bye to Chappy.
I laid there for what felt like an hour and finally rolled out of bed onto two stumbling feet. Mmrmrggrmgh.
I threw on some sweats.
I got in my car.
I started driving.
I nearly swerved off the road twelve different times.
I dozed off at least twice.
I pulled into their driveway and headed to their front door.
Chappy was out on the driveway, strapping in the baby carseat. He said something to me. Don’t ask me what.
I followed him inside.
He went and woke Noah up.
And believe me, Noah is not a morning person. I expected him to be just as grumpy as I was.
I looked at their clock. 4:48.
But when Noah came out his eyes were wide open and he had a smile that spread from Easter to Christmas. “Dad guess what! My baby’s coming!”
And to see the excitement he had, and the look on his face, I realized how monumental a moment this was for him. He was about to be a big brother.
And that was worth finally waking up for.
All the way home he talked about “his baby” that was on its way.
And then we both crashed until ten. And ever since then, he has insisted every hour or so that I dial up Chappy to see if the baby is here yet. And he’s always so disappointed when he says, “not yet!”
She’s currently at a six. So… soon enough, Pal. Soon enough.
And I guess I can’t be too mad about the hour she went into labor. After all, it was supporting me and climbing up those freakishly tall steps that probably did it!
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing