About 8:00 P.M. last night, our older daughter's husband calls my wife and says Frankie (the daughter I mentioned at the start of this sentence) is having serious contraction pains. My wife heads over to their house, and they decide it's time to go to the hospital---and this time, (try number four at having the new kid), they keep her!
My younger daughter heads home from her boyfriend's house, and I stuff my purple backpack full of books and comics and cardboard and pens and a notebook. The younger daughter gets home, makes herself presentable to the public, and the two of us head for "the scary place." (I am TERRIBLY phobic about hospitals---I shake and feel sick to my stomach and float mere inches from a panic attack just being in the parking lot of a medical facility, but this is my first grandkid, so I had to be there), with a quick stop at a fast food joint on the way to get coffees for the "birthing spectators" and some chicken strips for the dad-to-be...
Somewhere between 9:00 P.M. and 10:00, we arrive at the hospital---and I dig in to the waiting room, making a little nest, and prepare to WAIT. (Did I mention that I'm phobic about medical stuff? Because I'm SERIOUSLY phobic about medical stuff...) To help pass the time, I make a little drawing on a piece of a recycled t.v. dinner box...
(Ink on reclaimed cardboard with digital embellishments and color. 2019.)
[If you are wondering which of the creatures in the drawing is supposed to be ME, I'd probably say "All of them..." (But mostly, the moon...)]
After finishing my drawing, I worked on reading, switching back and forth between a comic collection and a nonfiction book. Whenever I started to fall asleep reading one, I'd switch to the other...
At about 2:00 or 2:30 A.M., my wife (who had come out to check on me and relay updates on the proceedings several times already) convinced me to go home and get some sleep. I (reluctantly---I was trying to be supportive) accepted her offer, and I think I slept on the couch, (a bit fitfully), from about 3:00 A.M. until approximately 6:00, when I got a message saying things were getting serious in the delivery room. I took a shower, drank a cup of coffee, and went back to my waiting area for a bit more sitting and reading... (Neither Mariah nor my younger daughter, Ellie, have had ANY sleep yet!!!)
At 9:03 A.M., FINALLY, the new kid was born! NINE pounds and 20.5 inches long, a girl (however she chooses to identify later is up to her) named Felicity... Both the baby and the mom are doing great...and the dad is too, I suppose. (The jury is still out on at least one of the grandpas...)
Now, it's about 1:00 P.M., and I'm going to TRY for a bit of a nap before I head back to work for another closing shift this evening---another fun fest full of Heck and Dangnation! We'll see how it all goes!
Thanks for stopping by!
---Richard F. Yates (Holy Grandpa Fool)