He’s My Baby Boy. Number Two Son. Son 2.0. He’s the reason that his brother isn’t an only child. His Big brother summed it up quite well. “Welcome to the Thirties. It’s not so bad.” This is the story of the Day Timm was born.
Let’s start this story at the beginning. The very beginning. It’s a very good place to start. His Mom and I took Brian from Texas to Virginia to visit Grandma and Grandpa. It was Christmas time and Washington D.C. was all snowy and Christmassy. After banging out the Holidays, we were taken to Grandma’s House. or should I say Great Grandma’s Farm up in Clintwood Virginia. A picturesque Appalachian coal village in the TriState. Where Virginia,Kentucky and Tennessee all come together. Clintwood is so small that the folks go over the hill to Butcher Holler for a night on the big town.
The place oozed Romance. I was trying to capitalize on that fact at bed time. Mom balked calling attention to the fact that her Parents were in the next room. I said. “Sh,sh,sh..listen.” We could hear the classic squeaky springs sounds coming from the other bedroom. “See,” I said “They’re busy.”
It was October 10th , 1982. The Day We Made Timmy. Keep that in mind in becomes important later in the story.
Timm (yes two M’s) was due in September but he kinda took that as a suggestion rather than an appointment. Since we stiffed my parents for his brother’s birth we invited them from California to Laughlin AFB, Texas for this Blessed Event. We had Blackstone-Hicks contractions all through September. We became regular ER visitors and were on a first name basis with the staff. Contractions were nice and steady. Start at 20 minutes and march down to five minutes apart and stop. As September wound down, Mom’s favorite OB Doctor McW said he was going on vacation for October and told her to have a Nice Baby. Mama said she’d wait for him to get back. To humor her, Doc set an appointment to induce on the day he got back.
As October crawled by, Mom was completely done being pregnant. I was completely done with my parents LIVING with us. I even took her on a Stage Coach ride to induce labor. Nothing. Timm had his fingers and toes clawed into the walls and not coming out.
2 NOV 1982
Inducement Appointment. Nine AM. Mom and I were sitting in the OB/GYN waiting room when she asked me what time was it?
It was 0908. She said “Good”.
I said, “Good what?”
“Contractions. They’re under five minutes now.”
OH SHIT!! All hell breaks loose. Into the wheel chair and… WHOOSH..she’s off to delivery. When I get there, all the nurses have been trying to get an I.V. started. No Luck. Crusty R.N. asks, “Are you Dad? If you are, better get changed.” She hands me some scrubs. Out to the bathroom and back. On the way I glimpse another labor in progress. Filipino wife…standing on the bed. Hmmmm?
Now they have the anesthetist trying for the I.V. She’s cute. She’s blonde. She’s on her knees. She’s concentrating really hard. Yes….blood flow. Good stick. She’s holding with her finger as she asks for a Band Aid. As she reaches for the Band Aid, Mom’s blood pressure pushes the needle out. Blonde starts crying. In fact all the nurses in the room do a collective moan that sort of sounds like “Fuck!”
At this point Mom proudly announces that her water has broken. “Are you sure you didn’t pee, Sweetie?” says Crusty. Blonde looks up at her, baby juice soaking her scrubs. “Yes her water broke!”
Right that very second, Doctor McW decides to reappear. He startles me by using some secret back door. He’s in his Blues (4B’s for you USAF readers who are keeping score). Mom hated the other OB and he appears at the front door. Mom says something classically preggo like “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!!!” Doctor McW says, “Okay we’re moving. Dad. Push.”
So we have to move Mom twenty feet or so from the Labor into the Delivery Room. I’m pushing gurney. McW is steering with one hand and pulling at his shirt with the other. Only Mom, Doc and I make it to the Delivery Room. No one else has had time to scrub. Doc HateHim is standing at the Red Line and throwing masks at us, telling us to put them on. Crusty is yelling for me to put Oxygen mask on Mom. Doc McW never gets his uniform shirt off but has it unbuttoned in a casually sexy sort of way.
I never get a good “PUSH two three four five six seven eight.” out. So much for Lamaze class. So much for drugs. Timmy falls out. Doc McW askes, “Well Joyce, what did you want?” Mom props herself on her elbows. Tries to get a look at her new baby and says “A Girl????”
“Nope, you have another healthy son.”
“Shit.”, says Mom and lays back down.
Doc McW looks at me. I look at him. Then to the crowd at the door. The nurses all looking at me.
“Wrap him up. We’ll take him.” says the Proud New Daddy.
Freshly scrubbed reinforcements from the Nurses Brigade arrived and cleaned up Number Two Son. This gave me pause to remember the Mission Briefing.
“After delivery. the father will carry newborn into Nursery.”
Oh shit. That’s a good thirty feet of walking. Loyal Readers will remember that I dropped Number One Son. That Story is here for newbies.
Swaddled and raring to go, Timmy was handed to me. His eyes were closed.
The Primary Target was the warming tray. um… I mean incubator. Loving grandparents and friends were beaming through the viewing window. I concentrated on the Final Approach. Three feet. Two feet. Timm comes to a hover a couple of inches off the pad.
Timm wakes up with a squirm.
I went “EWWW!” and jerked away.
BONK! DOWN GOES TIMMY! DOWN GOES TIMMY!!!
He opened his eyes and looked at me for the first time with that “What the Hell?” look he still gives to this day.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SON
Other Stuff That’s 30
- The Compact Disk
- PAC MAN
- USA Today
- The Weather Channel
- The Personal Computer
- LeAnn Rimes
- Kelly Clarkson
- “Late Night With David Letterman” debuts on NBC-TV
“I have never been lost, but I will admit to being confused for several weeks.”
–Daniel Boone, born this day in 1734