Happy Birth-day Sophie!

Today is Sophie’s birthday – She is nine.  Every year I like to remember moments of the day I gave birth to her.  I will spare you the details of the labor and delivery.  They are equal parts, gross and mind-bogglingly painful and miraculous. 

I was thinking today about the cheeseburger I ate right after Sophie was born.

You see, once you are admitted to the hospital you cannot eat anything.  They don’t allow you to.  From the time I was admitted to showtime it was some eighteen hours later.  When all was said and done, I was ravenous.     To my great relief and joy, the hospital was equipped with room service.

I ordered my afterbirth meal.  It consisted of a cheeseburger, Mac & Cheese, chocolate cake and a coke. 

Within minutes – no kidding – manna from heaven appeared right in the delivery room.  The nurses took Sophie to do their routine new baby check. I was left to savor the greatest, juiciest, most satisfying burger I ever had the pleasure of devouring.   I was making love to this cheeseburger, and the nurses came back with a minutes-old Sophie. 

“Ma’am, your baby!”  The nurse beamed at me.

I sat in bed chowing a mouthful of burger, and I stopped and looked at her quizzically.  “My baby?”  I thought.  “She must have the wrong room.  I don’t have a baby.”  And then it dawned on me, “That’s my baby!! Holy cow – I have a baby!”  I had a moment where I panicked, “I don’t think I can do this.  Maybe I don’t have to.  If I just keep eating she may just leave me alone.  Baby?  I just want to eat.  How am I going to eat?”

I took Sophie from the nurse and I proceeded to successfully eat my first of many one-handed meals, one arm wrapped around Sophie, the other feeding myself.  I knew that something inside of me had fundamentally changed.  My DNA was rearranged.  I crossed across the chasm and stepped onto the other side.