turns. But if I’ve learned anything in navigating the ups and downs, it’s that sometimes those unexpected curveballs turn out to be exactly what you never knew was missing.
Not every Prince Charming rides in on a white horse. If that’s what you’re waiting for, you’re likely to miss him altogether. Maybe he’s sitting next to you in church, or bagging your groceries at the Piggly Wiggly. And maybe you just might find him during a drunken hookup on Bourbon Street.
All I know for certain is that life didn’t sit around waiting for me to figure my shit out. It happened, despite my best efforts at times to thwart it. I wasn’t truly living, but merely existing, until I learned to recognize each unexpected blessing and seize them with arms wide open.
Delivery Day
“Nine centimeters,” our labor and delivery nurse, Gretta, announces, lifting her head from beneath the sheet covering Whitney’s business. And I say business in the very literal sense. So many people have done been under that damn cover, you’d swear Whit was running 7-11 out of her vagina.
“What’s that mean?” Priss asks, sipping a Coke and munching on gummy bears in the blue plastic recliner that’s supposed to double as my bed for the night.
“That means it’s show time,” she offers, popping her gloves off and tossing them into the trash. “We’re about to break down the bed and set up,” she adds, addressing Whitney. “Y’all got someone to watch the little one out in the waiting room? It’s probably time for her to head out.”
“She’ll be staying,” my wife says.
Yep, my wife. It’s crazy how much things have changed for me in the last year. I’ve gone from a bachelor in every sense to a married man with a child…soon to be two.
And let me tell you, people talk about being strapped down like it’s a bad thing, but I’ll take these shackles any day. Life is so much more meaningful when you have people to share it with. It’s all the little things. Take a fart, for instance… Pre-Prissy, it was merely a sound—a smell released into the void. Now? There are squeals and giggles and a feeling of accomplishment.
Gretta’s face scrunches with uncertainty. “Are you sure? No offense,” she says, glancing toward me, “but most grown men can’t even handle it without getting weak.”
I choke on a laugh. My grandmother gave us the same speech in the car this morning during the drive to the hospital—cited all the reasons her favorite granddaughter ought to hang out with her and Marie in the waiting room. It’s actually quite funny, the way she insists on treating her like a delicate flower, knowing damn well that kid is tough as nails. Mimi can’t get enough of that little girl, Whitney either. The woman calls her more than me now. I’m sure that will only increase with the birth of the new baby.
“Listen, I drain and embalm bodies for a living,” Prissy sasses, whipping her head so her ponytail swishes side to side. “I think I can handle watching a baby come outta a vagina.” She tugs the lapels of her leather jacket, sucking her tongue to her teeth like a total badass.
Whitney shakes her head, grinding her molars, while I have to turn away to keep from laughing. I find myself doing that a lot. “We own a funeral home,” she explains, pinching the bridge of her nose. “She doesn’t actually embalm the bodies, but she’s assisted countless times and will be just fine.” She dips her head back toward me. “He’s the one you should be concerned about.”
I nod, not even pretending otherwise. “It’s true.”
With a laugh, the middle-aged woman makes for the door. “Sounds like y’all have this all figured out. Be back in a jiff,” she says before rushing down the hall.
“This is it,” I say, beginning to pack up Prissy’s snacks. “Time to meet my son!”
“Daughter,” Prissy challenges.
“What’re you doing?” my wife asks, eying me curiously. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
“Putting her food in the bags so it doesn’t get splashed on.”
“What the hell do you think’s about to happen in here?” she guffaws. “If blood splatters into that back corner, we’re in big trouble.”
“Just seemed like the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do would be to get your sexy hiney over here and give me a kiss.”
“Ugh,” our child groans. “Not again…”
I’ve barely slipped my tongue between her parted lips when a team of medical people storm into the room.
“Gonna need you to