Friday, March 30, 2007

Chapter 1: A Moment in Time

I remember that moment, the first cry of my own child. It was incredibly intense. My wife had been putting every effort she had to the creation of this new life for the last 9 months and especially the last 3 hours. The time had come, she was exhausted, I was anxious and the doctor was gowned and prepped. A few more seconds and my own child would be entering this world. The name was chosen, his nursery was ready, all was in line, or was it. I mean seriously, who was I to raise a kid in this world. I felt I was still a kid myself. All I could think was whether he was really ready to enter this life with all of its confusion, and learning, pain and pleasure. Now that I think of it, I don't think I was questioning whether he was ready at all, but rather was I ready.

Suddenly, my mind was brought back into the room, he was here, I could see his head. His hair dark, though sparse, and damp. It was real. I was really, finally becoming a Dad, but something wasn't right. "Hold on, I need you to stop pushing." The veteran doctor calmly pronounced to my wife and all of us around her. We had been cheering her strained efforts for the last few hours with more enthusiasm than a Texas High School cheer leading squad at a the state championship game. Hours that to her appeared longer than days. Now the counting and words of encouragement halted abruptly.

I looked down to see the color of his small head quickly darken under the brown hair until it became purple like the bruise of a bullied black eye. "What was wrong?" I asked myself, uncertain what this moment I had waited years to reach would really bring.

The answer came immediately again from the tempered voice with a slight northeastern accent."The cord is wrapped around his neck a few times, I need you to stop pushing and everything will be fine." Immediately, I understood the reason for the silence from a child I thought would come out screaming. I knew now the darker shade of purple that had completely tinted the face of my own first son was not natural but rather the sign of a lack of vital oxygen to his helpless infant head. The moment was overwhelming. Could something go so wrong that my son may never get the chance to face this world. A world that brings so much pain and yet so much joy.

Prepared or not, at that minute I knew. I knew that I wanted the chance to raise him. The chance to take his little hand in mine and support him as he walks through this life that had taught me so much.

In my panic, I watched in awe, as the same cord that moments ago was feeding my child life, was now threatening his innocent first breath from ever being taken. It brought me back to that same realization I had been confronted with a few short years earlier, the reality of how dangerously fragile life really is, and how every moment counted, especially this one.

Then, as if he'd done it a hundred times the doctor gently and precisely snipped the cord. The color which was now one of the deepest purples I had ever seen began to fade as umbilical cord was loosened and removed, and a final hastened push freed the rest of this frail body into the incredible world that so long had awaited him. A vigorous rubbing and cleaning by the apparently relieved Doctor was sufficient to fill his lungs with life. And then I heard it, his first cry. A call for warmth and attention, devotion and love, a security his new parents were now more than ecstatic to give.

The impact compared to no other moment. My first child... this was going to change my life. Well, maybe I can't say, no other moment...