The Birth of the Girl
My wife was in labor when the texts started coming: a 103 degree fever, then a double ear infection, then a grandmother who tripped and caught the flu too. I delivered the baby news and then went home to triage the house.
My mother-in-law came into town as the due date grew near. She stayed home with the two boys (H: not quite two years old, and K: not quite four years old) while we rushed off to the hospital. (At least two of my wife’s siblings were born on the side of the road while driving to the hospital. My wife is not interested in carrying on that tradition, so she tends to be quick to head to the hospital.)
We are in the midst of labor when I get a text from the MiL: “H has a 103 degree fever and I don’t know what to do.” I can’t deal with this right now, obviously. I text the one friend. You know the one. The one who will drop everything for you. “H has a bad fever and needs your help. Do whatever. Keep me informed. Don’t ask me any questions.” I’m texting all of this with one hand while my wife is clamping down on the other through the contractions. I imagine the nurses think I’m a jerk. I can’t explain the situation to them because I don’t want to stress out my wife who is already…stressed.
