No, not for me, silly. Stop it. But at work, I had a boy! I get a stork award! Here it is:
Working 911 fire/medical, you get birth calls regularly, if not often. Nine times out of ten, the contractions are in full swing, but the baby is still an hour or more away. Sometimes you get the real deal, screaming and pushing, the baby almost out, and then the silly paramedics get there too fast, and you miss the new baby’s entrance. Or you get the call after the baby’s born, and they just need an ambulance for transport.
But tonight, I got the whole deal, answered the phone and Almost-Dad-But-Not-Quite-Yet was screaming almost as loudly as Hang-On-Just-A-Second-You’re-Almost-A-Mom. "It’s coming out! The baby’s coming! Oh my god!"
In the length of time it took me to verify his address and phone number, to get her age and vital stats, the baby was all the way out. We got through the whole thing: making sure the baby was breathing and crying, cleaning the baby, wrapping the baby, tying the umbilical cord, delivering and wrapping the placenta.
Then I asked Now-You’re-A-Daddy, "Is it a boy or a girl?"
He said, "It’s a boy." Pause. "It’s a BOY!" You could hear that he hadn’t really fully realized it until he said it out loud for the first time.
"Congratulations, daddy." I said.
"Thank you! It’s a BOY!"
Dude. That was cool. And okay, I gave myself the stork award, since we always talk about them and no one ever really gets one, but I wanted it. So there it is. Woot! Happy birthday, kid. It’s a good world. Welcome.
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