Saturday, September 27, 2008

September 26, 2008 - Dear Alex,

Dear Alex,
Tonight I walked you in the stroller around the neighborhood. We stopped at Rosepepper Catina, the restaurant where your brother and I go weekly to have a father-son dinner. I pulled the stroller inside and found Max and my favorite waitress and hostess. I wanted to show you off.

We've started bonding a bit more this week. The family is getting into somewhat of a routine. Mom takes her times out of the house or to rest. During those moments I hold you or just sit next to you. The past couple nights, I've taken you for a walk.

Other fathers of two agree that it takes longer to bond with child #2. The papa is so busy making sure everyone has everything and that #1 is entertained. Thus, time with #2 is a bit short.

I'm a #2 and never felt deprived. Hopefully this is just a stage and it's ending.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

September 16, 2008 - Dear DTs,

Dear DTs,
I'm glad I made the trip and that we were able (just barely) to have our historic reunion. I'm sorry I had to leave just after Henry arrived. But it's great that we were able to get the picture of all nine of us together. Not sure any of us remember the last time we were together and not sure if any of us are confident that it'll ever happen again.

Reunions are always weird in the sense that you get to see where people that you knew ages ago ended up. With this group it's even more meaningful since we were friends during our (god I hate that I'm using this phrase) formative years.

And how weird is it that I had my second child the day Pudd dropped his oldest off at college?

I'm not sure where I put myself in that marriage pool we did ages ago. If I remember my own childhood correctly, I don't even remember thinking I'd ever be married. Perhaps I just listed my name in the lower half because at that point in my life I did some stuff (believe it or not) just to fit in. Actually, I think Chicken won the pool mainly because he listed me on the bottom. Maybe he (and all y'all) knew me better than I knew myself.

Well here we are after nine marriages, two divorces, too many kids for me to count at 2am and -- ahhhhhhhhhhh, I hate this -- one bad illness.

I know my kids will one day hear stories about my school years (whether they want to or not) and they'll hear about all of you. We had great times. Every time I think about any of you I think about all of you and all the stuffs we did.

Now I've got two sons. I'm sure they'll do some stuffs I did (please don't tell them everything). I hope they develop a group like I did.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

September 9, 2008 - Dear Alex,

Dear Alex,
As I held you today and looked into your eyes, I wondered what special talents and gifts are hiding inside you.

Do you love sports, music and books (in that order) like your brother?

Or are you going to be a writer, artist or scientist?

Oh the adventures the four of us are going to have!

September 7, 2008 - Dear Alex,

Dear Alex,
I hope you don't feel I've been ignoring you these first couple weeks. Perhaps I have gone a bit too far in my making sure Max is okay mode. I know you need your mama now. I've felt it important to make sure Max doesn't feel left out.

I too feel you and I haven't fully bonded yet. But I remember the same feeling the first couple weeks with Max. My days then were filled with making sure your mama was okay and making sure the house was relatively clean and that we had food. This time your mama is feeling much better. However, I still have a side job: making sure Max doesn't feel ignored.

You and I have plenty of time to get to know each other. I look forward to it all!

Sunday, September 7, 2008

August 27, 2008 - Dear Alex,

Dear Alex,
You got your name today. Your mama and I were pretty sure we had your named picked out the day after you were born. However, we waited to be sure. Today we got perhaps the sign we needed. We gave you your name in front of friends and family and then we all did the Bernstein Traditional Dance around the dining room table.

We didn't expect to be one of those couples that takes our baby home from the hospital without a name. Perhaps we should be so surprised. We took three days to name your brother (and yes, I and my brothers did the silly dance around Max in the hospital when we named him). So taking four days with you wasn't too different.

Alex fit all the criteria we wanted in a name: short and easy to pronounce in several languages.

In addition to Alex, our short list of names included Leo, Luke, Adam, Noah and Paz (your mama's maiden name).

If you were a girl, your named would have been Luna. (I joked with your mama that if you were to be a girl I'd have a son and a moon. And if you were a boy you'd be the Second Son of a Second Son of a Second Son.)

The first sign that your name should be Alex came on Sunday -- the day after you were born. Your Aunt Vanessa Alexandra said "If you're looking for another named with an X you could use Alex." She didn't know Alex was on our short list and that we were planning on asking her permission if we chose that name. We almost took that as a sign and named you right then.

We were set to name you Monday morning before leaving the hospital until I remembered another name on our short list we forgot to rule out: Levi. Your grandma dressed your brother in jeans that morning and he demanded to skip school to be part of your homecoming. The jeans had a big "Levi" on the cuff. I thought that was the sign I was looking for. I wasn't convinced, so you left the hospital without a name.

You also were almost named Monday night. Your Aunt Vanessa Alexandra was over for dinner. It was just us and her. Your mama and I looked at each other because we knew this could be a perfect moment. However, we let the moment pass.

The final sign came on Wednesday. Your mama had her swearing in ceremony to become a U.S. Citizen. She was alone with you when a gentleman from India came up to look at you. "What's his name?" he asked. "Actually we haven't named him yet," your mama replied. "You snooze you loose," he said. "His name is Alejandro." Your mama was amazed. When she told me the story I must've scared the man as I asked him to come off the elevator so I could take his picture.

Later that night with your Grandma, Uncle Kenny, Aunt Norma, Cousins Brandon & Nicolas, friend Ramsey and, of course, Aunt Vanessa Alexandra you got your name and your dance.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

August 25, 2008 - Dear Paz Sisters,

Dear Paz Sisters,
I'm happy that you got to share in the birth of your nephew. I should know by now that any event involving anyone in this family will attract a crowd. And this tend-to-be-private guy has learned to enjoy it all!Thanks for doing all the stuffs I'm not even quite sure you did during and surrounding Lentil's birth. I know there were massages and taking care of Max and food to gather. I'm sure there were so many other things I was too out of it to recognize that y'all helped with.

I didn't grow up with sisters. It's fun to grow old with them now!

Augst 25, 2008 - Dear Brandon & Nicolas,

Dear Brandon & Nicolas,
I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for being such a good cousin and friend to Max and to ask you do the same for Lentil.

Max loves you guys. He gets excited when he hears your names and always wants to play with you.

You have seen him grow from baby to the happy two-year-old boy he is today.

I hope that the now four of you boys have a lifetime of friendship.


August 25, 2008 - Dear Maria and Jeff,

Dear Maria and Jeff,
As much as I thank you for everything you did during the delivery, I thank you for the phone call a couple days later. You told me the experience was the biggest thing you remember doing. That pretty much says it all.

I have to admit that before it all happened I had no idea how comfortable I was with the idea of anyone being in the room when my child was going to be born. Even my image of a dullah was skewed. Somehow I imagined that what Irma would really only need was a quick massage of the back or shoulders early on in the labor process. I figured the two of us would then be alone during the delivery.

Instead what we got was team of helpers, a festive atmosphere and an incredible experience that we will never forget.

Perhaps Jeff summed it up best (and maybe started the party): "I'm not leaving until someone kicks me out."

Thanks for everything! You guys were incredible.

We asked for someone to give Irma massages during the labor. What we got was a couple of massage pros that jumped right in and litteraly helped form head to toe (with some photography and videography thrown in as well).


Lentil may not yet have a name. What he does have is an instant family!

August 25, 2008 - Dear Waddy,

Dear Waddy,
I think I thought more about you during this pregnancy than I did during the first several months after you died.

In weird ways your memory and your lessons were with me the whole pregnancy from start to finish.
You taught me to think quickly and to hastily do basic math in my head. Thus, when Irma and I decided to try for a second child I did the quick math and realized 40 weeks from that fertile moment would roughly be your birthday. I told Irma then that after six months of being so sure I wanted a second child I now wanted another month to make sure I was sure. I only told her the truth about the reason for my delay after Lentil was born.

The other thought that kept going through my head was that if this baby were to be a boy it would be the second son of a second son of a second son.

I ended up with a second son born a month early -- thus just 12 days after your birthday. With all that, how could I not think about you?

I'm sorry our relationship wasn't in a good place when you died. We grew apart as we grew older. And we were never able to have that Big Talk you see in Hollywood films that suddenly resolve years of frustration. I've developed a comfortable understanding of our relationship -- even if it's not totally realistic or perhaps even fair.

I know you weren't perfect; noone is. I could fault you for lots of my issues. However, I'm an adult now and I'm prepared to claim them as my issues and something I need to deal with rather than your faults and something you need to apologize for.I think my anger toward you came from disappointment.

Mom tells me that when I was young, you were my hero. When I'm able to clearly think back that far, I know she's right. I remember how far you could throw a ball, how fast you could run, how strong you were, how fast you could do math and how quickly you could spell words backwards. More importantly I remember how you played with us and all the other kids in the neighborhood, how you bought our Little League teams ice cream win or lose and how you showed up at every game.
Mom also tells me that you had this great desire to be a father. You wanted to right the wrongs your father had done to you. Perhaps this was another reason you became your sons' hero.
Somewhere along the line things changed.

Perhaps it's a cliche to suggest that my hero worship and thus your motivation died the moment we both realized I could compete with you. But perhaps there is truth in it. We all tell the story about the day you challenged your three boys to a foot race believing you could still out run at least two of them only to finish a distant fourth. I used to laugh at that story. More recently I've used it to symbolize my anger with you.

I felt that somewhere along the line you gave up and that's what angered me. I felt you stopped carrying about yourself and therefore those around you. You kept eating and ignoring doctors orders and your family's pleas.

Maybe it was the day of the race. Maybe it was earlier or later. Perhaps you were always like that. I'll never know for sure. I just know I was mad at you for it.

Another part of the pregnancy that made me think of you are these two quotes from the book Big Fish I posted on my office wall. The Big Fish in the book was like you in many ways. In fact, the story is much like one I wrote about you that you never liked. Basically the son characters in both stories come to eventually appreciate that the numerous stories their father told them over and over again were more "A man lives on if his stories are retold." "A man is a success if his son loves him."

I remember yor stories and I do love you.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

August 24, 2008 - Dear Kenny,

Dear Kenny,
I'm glad that you were in the delivery room for awhile and I'm sorry if I didn't make it more clear that you were welcome to stay. I'm sure you were a bit confused when you walked in and saw all those people in the room. We didn't plan for the delivery to turn into a party. But that seems to be the way things go in this family. We ended up with people giving massages, advice and encouragement and others taking video and still photos. In addition, of course, there was the two midwifes and the nurse.

I'm glad you got to experience at least part of the birth of your nephew. I know you saw part of the laboring including some of Irma's screaming. I know you weren't in the room for the actual birth. I just wanted you to know that seeing you in the room for at least a moment helped me. In a selfish/egotistical way it allowed me to be proud: this was my wife and my child I was showing off to you and the world.

The result: Max has a brother. I didn't care if Lentil was to be a boy or girl. Perhaps it'll now be a bit easier for me since I know the brother relationship. I know it and I'm happy for it. Brothers are incredible things. Growing up their best friends, fiercest rivals and biggest critics. As adults, they help validate your past and give meaning to your common stories.

We've certainly had our ups and downs. Yet despite it all, we're together. I'm glad I have you as a brother and glad Max and Lentil have each other.

August 24, 2008 - Dear McGee,

Dear McGee,
I started a letter to you the day your sons Ryan & Cole were born. In it I wondered what parts of our childhood you would pass down to your children. Would your Jewish children celebrate Santa Clause? Would they be told that you learned all your incredible tricks in The Orient? Would you teach them poker at an early age and would they be the only ones in the neighborhood playing Hit the Penny?

Like many of my good intentions, that letter never got completed.

Four years later I have two sons of my own and you've added a daughter. As much as I wonder what you'll pass on, I'm more focused on what I'm going to do. Mom and dad gave us a lot of good and some bad. Somehow we need to filter it for the next generation. It would be nice if we could call a Time Out so we can make a plan before these kids get too old. Sometimes I feel like I'm winging it and that I'm messing up.

I didn't care if Lentil was a boy or girl. However, the reality of having a second son is bringing back many childhood brother memories. I remember the three of us goofing around in the back seat of the various station wagons on the annual summer road trip. I remember the constant competition between us in every real and made up game -- especially over who had to sit in the middle when we didn't have a station wagon with the third seat. I remember the jokes about eating your shrimp, who is bigger on top and cliches. I remember how excited you were to come visit me at college (and how drunk I got you). I remember beating you up after Kenny beat me up and how you felt bad mainly because you didn't have a little brother to beat up.

I'm looking forward to seeing how our childhood plays out in our children.

August 24, 2008 - Dear Grandma,

Dear Grandma,
Your fifth grandchild decided to come exactly a month early yet he waited until you had time to get here from Chicago. I'm happy you were able to share this incredible moment with us.

Irma had been in labor on-and-off for some 30 hours when I saw you walk into the room. I'm not quite sure what I was thinking or feeling at that moment. Thus, I'm sorry if I didn't tell you then or soon afterwards how glad I was that you were there.

Having kids obviously brings back parts of my own childhood and has made me realize all you had to sacrifice and endure for me and my brothers. Sometimes I felt guilty for not saying thanks enough times for all that. Having kids has made me realize that you didn't do any of it to be thanked; you did with the hope that we'd end up happy and healthy.

So, more than thanks I say you succeeded. I'm happy and healthy. And on top of that, I now have a wife and two sons.

August 23, 2008 - Dear Max,

Dear Max,
All the worries I had about how this new baby was going to affect you went away when I saw you immediately bond with your brother. After a bit of observing him, you were ready to sit next to him, rub his head and hold his hand.

There are so many great things about having siblings. They're your first best friend and hopefully your last best friend. You'll make other friends along the way and there will be times you and your brother will go in opposite directions. However, those other friends will come and go; you and your brother will always be connected.

You two come from the same place. Some day when you're older you'll be able to share notes about your childhood and upbringing and figure out together how you became who you are.

I know about the brother bond because I have two of my own. We've gone through much together and despite our differences we'll always be together. I spent years playing with them, years competing with them and years recovering with them. They know me better than anyone and I know them best. We may disagree on lots of stuff. Yet, when need be, we're there for each other.

That all being said, there were many times during this pregnancy that I worried what having a second child was going to do to you. I love and admire you so. You're so full of life. I love watching you learn and grow. I worried that a second child was going to take time away from you and somehow lessen your spirit.

I first started to let this feeling completely go when your brother was born. I remember the relief it brought me when I said "It's a boy." I never cared whether you or your brother were to be boys or girls. Yet there was a sudden peace both times when I learned you were boys. This was especially true with your brother, who we expect will be our last child. Somehow just knowing that I had two boys helped me picture the rest of my life. It would have been the same feeling if he was a girl. The reality gave me peace.

After your brother was born, I remember walking to the waiting room where you and other family was gathered. I remember picking you up to show you your baby brother in the cart that was being wheeled by. You said "My brother" and again the worries further disappeared.

My dad always told the story that when Uncle Kenny first saw me he said "Do we have to keep him?"

You took to your brother instantly. You quickly sat next to him, patted his head and held his hand. Watching you bond with him was remarkably beautiful.

I hope that you and your brother become best friends for a lifetime. And I thank you for helping me get over my worst fears.

August 23, 2008 - Dear Irma,

Dear Irma,
You're incredible.

You're incredible not only because you were strong for 36 hours of labor, not only because you carried this beautiful boy, not only because you've been a wonderful mother to our other son and not only because you've helped bring out the best in me.

You're incredible because you believe it's all possible and you make it
seemingly effortlessly so.

I didn't have any clue that when I walked into your popsicle shop so many years ago that I'd end up with all this. When I saw you behind the counter I felt something strange and wonderful. It was so powerful that I ran away from it (and you) for a long time. Eventually I gave in -- we both gave in -- and eventually we ended up on a bridge saying I dos.

We talked about children as part of the 15 Topics to Discuss before Marriage. We both wanted them and we both thought that two would be the perfect number considering our ages. We also agreed that we should go for it right away.

We got it all. We got the perfect wedding, the dream African honeymoon and now the two children we talked about.

I know life with me sometimes isn't perfectly easy. Yet I know that our life together has been magically imperfectly perfect.

I also know that these two boys of ours are going to be something else.

I remember saying way back when Max was just a few months old that I felt he knew everything and was just testing us. Now he's two-years and three-months old and I'm more in awe with him every day. He's smart. He's athletic. He loves to learn. He's beautiful. And best of all -- as you've taught me -- he's happy.

And now he has a brother.

Two boys of course reminds me of my brothers. I saw him come out of your belly and I had flashbacks of my childhood and flash-forwards to seeing him and Max running and playing and doing all the stuffs I did with my brothers as a child.

I also can't stop thinking about my father.
I thought more about my dad during this pregnancy than I did during the first few months after he died.Our son is the second son of a second son of a second son. Our son's birthday is also just 11 days from my dad's. And this is the first -- and likely only -- grandchild that my dad will never have met.

I missed my dad during Lentil's birth even though there were so many people there.

The delivery and waiting rooms were filled with family and friends. This is another thing you taught me: if it were up to me, I'd have been alone with you through it all; I'm glad I didn't make that decision because I would screwed up the best Birthday Party ever!

You're incredible because you hosted this party while going through labor.

I know a bit about pain: I've run marathons, played football and rode a bike through the Ozarks in the middle of the summer.

I still have no idea how you went 36 hours without any medication, little food and no sleep.

The fact that you were giving instructions and pep talks to your team of helpers through it all didn't totally surprise me. You are after all a producer!

"C'mon team," you said right near the end. "We can do this!"

I wanted to massage you, hold your hand and tell you things to calm you down during the pain and motivate you to push when necessary. I know I did a bit of all of it. Yet, all I remember was watching our baby make his way out of your belly and into this world.

Max's birth was beautiful in its way. We were together; I held your hand and rubbed your head. Miles Davis was playing and the lights were low. The c-section didn't seem to matter. When the doctors pulled Max out and I saw this crying baby with outstretched arms and legs I was in awe.

This birth was beautiful in its way. Friends and family were there. You morphed into an animal, athlete and zen master at the perfect moments. The team was strong, funny and comforting. And our baby remained calm until he popped out.

I wanted you to hold our baby when I told you whether we had a son or a daughter. I wanted to make a big annoncement full of suspense.

However, when our baby came out, I was in awe. "It's a boy," I said as he fell into the midwife's arms.

We have two sons. We are a family . We got what we wanted. Our life has
been and will be incredible.

Your Birth Day - Dear Lentil,

Dear Lentil,
We had a party on your birth day. Your entry into this world was in a room filled with family and friends who gathered from all over despite the lack of notice. You were born exactly a month early -- after 36-hours of on-and-off labor.

First the facts:
  • You were born at 3:24pm on Saturday, August 23, 2008 (your due date was September 23).
  • You were delivered naturally. Your mama labored without any drugs. Your papa stayed awake and alert through it all (despite what your mama will tell you). Your brother Max watched part of the labor and came to see you soon after your birth.
  • You weighed in at 6 lbs 11oz and measured 18 1/4 inches. Initially there were worries that you had a respiratory issue. However, they took you to the NIC unit for fewer than 10 minutes before declaring you fine.
  • You came home from the hospital on Monday. You wore the same outfit that your papa, two uncles and brother Max wore when they came home from the hospital. The yellow knitted outfit was made by your great grandmother. Your grandma and Uncle Kenny were at the house waiting to greet you.
Now the story:
Your mama woke me up about 3am Friday morning to tell me she thought this was the day you were going to be born. I convinced her to go back to sleep. After all: you weren't expected for a month, your mama had contractions a few weeks prior that were determined to be caused by dehydration and your papa hates to wake up.

We soon realized that we were not going to get any sleep. We spent the next few hours timing contractions and figuring out what to do. Eventually we called the midwife office and were told to come into the office when they opened at 9am. We felt we could safely wait until then. We'd drop your brother Max at school at 9am and continue on to the midwife's office. From there? We weren't sure.

The midwife confirmed that these contractions were real but that birth wasn't necessarily imminent. She did tell us we would most likely be having a baby sometime within the next week. She didn't feel your mama was in full labor and advised us to go home and rest. Your mama followed orders. I went to work.


I picked your brother up from school at 4pm and drove him around until
he fell asleep. I carried him inside, put him asleep and then went upstairs to take a nap myself. I was exhausted.

Act 2 began about 8pm Friday when your mama woke me up from that nap and announced that the baby was ready to be born. She was calm but direct. We created a plan. We'd get Max to sleep, have your Aunt Norma come by to stay with him while we went to the hospital. We also called our friend Maria, a former massage therapist who had agreed to be our dullah.

We got to the hospital about 11pm. Maria and her husband Jeff met us in the lobby soon after. We were taken to our room and your mama was checked by the midwife. At first she was ready to send us home again. Your mama said she'd be more comfortable staying in the hospital overnight -- partly so as not to disturb your brother.

At about 5am the midwife checked your progress again and at first determined we should go home for awhile. After further questioning from your mother, the midwife rechecked and decided your mama was right. From here on it was a waiting game. I even started asking everyone remotely connected to the birth (your mama, the nurses, the midwifes, anyone who called) for their prediction. (Funny thing: you were a month early but you waited long past all of our predictions to make your debut.)

Act 3 began when the midwife officially admitted us to the hospital. We had the usual protocol of nurses asking questions, doctors giving us the What ifs and the insurance people getting forms signed. I called Chicago to tell your Uncle McGee and Grandma that if they wanted to be here they better start moving. Uncle Kenny had taken Aunt Norma's place watching your brother Max. At a reasonable hour, we called Aunt Norma to take over for Kenny so that she and cousins Brandon & Nicolas could entertain Max.

Maria and Jeff came back about 9am. Maria was going to be the dullah. Jeff at this point was just tagging along. "I'm staying until someone kicks me out," he said both informing us he would do anything we needed and giving us our last opportunity to make this birth private.

Aunts Vanessa and Aunt Alma arrived about noon. The Chicago Gang plus Uncle Kenny came in about 1:30pm. Soon after Norma and all the boys arrived. At some point everyone but Brandon & Nicolas made an appearance during labor. Maria, Jeff and Aunts Alma and Vanessa stayed for the whole thing. Your brother Max came into the room for awhile. After 10 minutes or so he motioned that he wanted out.

Somewhere during this stage I put my head down on the hospital bed and gave positive reinforcement to your mama. She says I fell asleep. I think I just wanted to fall asleep.

Besides being tired, I also remember being cold. I kept wrapping myself up in blankets. Perhaps I was having sympathy symptoms.

Act four was full labor. This began about 1pm. This is when the midwifes settled in, your mama pushed, sweated and told me to stop singing (I have no idea what or why I was singing).

The team was amazing. Without any planning everyone took on a role and played their part perfectly. Maria massaged shoulders, back and head. Jeff rubbed the feet. I had one arm. Your Aunts took their place around the bed. The midwifes Tonya and a student calmly directed the whole thing without interrupting the energy in the room. And Nurse Lauren played coach and cheer leader.

I remember your Grandma and Uncles Kenny and McGee walking in around 1:30pm. They were excited but quickly left the room. (I don't think they realized this was an open party). Uncle Kenny came back later and stayed long enough to realize how amazing the birth process is and how amazing your mama was during the whole process.

Labor lasted on and off for 36 hours, from the time she woke me up at Friday at3am to the time you were born Saturday at 3:24pm. Your mama was incredible. Without any sleep or anything to eat during most of that time, she exerted what seemed to be equal to two marathons. She pushed. She endured pain. She did it all without any medicines and without any swearing.

I fought through my sympathy symptoms and surprised myself by watching the whole thing.

I saw the whole thing but I still don't know how it all worked. I remember thinking that the midwife was going to call the whole thing off any moment. I felt this was taking too long something must be wrong. But the midwifes were totally calm. There was no panic. They kept a straight face. When they did say something it was only that the baby was fine and seemed happy, which they could tell by monitoring your heartbeat. I know a bit about heart rates and I kept seeing that yours was calm. Their calmness assured me all was okay.

I took my turn rubbing your mama's forehead, rubbing her arm and holding her hand. The closer it came to the finale the more I watched. The first time I saw your head I started to smile. Then I saw that you had hair and I started wondering what you'd look like. Eventually when you came all the way out I relaxed and smiled.

Nurse Lauren was incredible. She kept telling your mama to push and reassuring her that she was doing great and the baby was fine. Eventually she told your mama that it was time to let her baby go. Your mama seemed to take a moment to think about this and then she kicked it into high gear. She had already been working for some 35 hours. But somehow she found another energy.

"Okay team," your mama yelled. "Let's do this."

Twenty minutes or so later, at 3:24pm you came out.

I had told everyone in the room not to say anything about you being a boy or a girl. I wanted the job of making this announcement to your mama and everyone else. I planned on taking you to your mama and telling her quietly.

However, my seeing you for the first time made forget all about my plan and my speech. When you were born I was excited and relieved. Without thinking and without caring about anybody else I simply looked at you and said "It's a boy."

I never cared if you were to be a boy or a girl. During the pregnancy I could picture my life either way. When you were born I had flashbacks and flashforwards. I thought about my childhood with brothers and then I'd think about you and Max creating this magical brother bond. Two boys. You were just born, yet the rest of my life had just fallen into place.

I cut your umbilical cord, held you briefly and showed you to your mama before they took you to be checked. Because you were a month early they worried about all sorts of stuffs. They did detect a bit of a breathing problem at first. They said they'd have to take you to the NIC unit for observation but that it didn't appear to be serious. I walked with you to the outside of NIC unit, up until they wouldn't let me go any further.

Along the way, they wheeled you (I wasn't allowed to carry you in the hallways) past your grandma, uncles and other waiting friends. The nurse stopped long enough for me to tell of your birth. "My father was the second son," I said. "I'm a second son. And now I have a second son.

"Everything is fine," I continued. "They're taking him to be checked. There may be a respiratory issue but they don't think it's serious."

About 10 minutes later, you were suddenly brought back to your mama in the delivery room. It was so sudden that I was still with your grandma and uncles. "They never bring back a baby that fast," Nurse Lauren told us. "He must be fine."

After your mama was attended to, another party started. Everyone came to visit. One of the first was your brother Max. He didn't take long to get next to you and rub our head.

And that's your birth story. It was incredible. It was a party.