Two Days

This has been delayed from the date of writing, at the request of your momma. I wrote this on July 22, 2015. Two days before the birth of your little brother.

Hello again, Big Sis,

Two days until Jack is scheduled to arrive. Twenty months ago, I left your momma (and you, in her stomach) and your sister to spend the day at a charity event. I expected you in two days—at most.

You were late. Very late. Even the docs who were comfortable with a natural childbirth were not comfortable with you going any longer. So, there we were. Two days.

I think that I took it for granted. I always liked to tell my friends, “Good things happen to good people. And, sometimes, good things happen to me, too.” It was a joke, but I had always felt that I led an enchanted life. To top it off, I was working a charity event. Certainly nothing unpleasant would await my return.

Two days. That’s all that stood between us living the rest of our lives together. That’s all that prevented me and your momma from introducing you to the world.

When I got home, your momma was laying in bed, trying to get a kick count. I’m not good at waiting. Within fifteen minutes, we were on our way to the hospital in Cortlandt Manor. 

I think that I knew it as we drove. I didn’t want to know it. I did a good job of pretending that I didn’t know it, but I could feel it. Your momma was begging you to give a little kick or a jab—even to the bladder. You were completely intransigent.

Today feels familiar in a panicked excitement. Two days.

It’s hard to know what to feel. I am so excited to meet your little brother. I also know that I should not take anything for granted.

Two days!

I love you so much, little buddy!

Dad