Twenty-four years ago, I dialed my OB’s office and asked the nurse which doctor was on call that day. Mind you, I had never said anything to anyone there, but she immediately called me on it: “Why? If it’s the wrong one, are you going to go out of labor?”
I hadn’t even told her yet that I was IN labor; what could I do but smile and answer honestly: “Yes.” There were two doctors in that practice, and by nine months I had come to admire and enjoy being around the one much more than the other.
Which is why I found myself apologizing to my dad that we’d missed his birthday by a day, but it was for the best. We were just stretching out the birthday celebrations a bit–we gave our new little boy his grandpa’s name.
Twenty-four years ago, we brought home a new son. Happy birthday, little guy. And now, Richard has brought us a new daughter. And the joy grows forever.