We went to bed late on that Sunday after getting somethings ready for our new place. It was quarter-to-one, and I had to get up for work in 3 hours.
Gastor
Yes baby?
I’ve been having contractions every 10 minutes since we went to bed.
That’s nice baby.
I was still deep into my sleep. I told Gabby later that day, it felt like that conversation was part of a dream. It was actually the start of the night. So with that, I fell back asleep but Gabby woke me up an hour later.
Gastor
Yes baby?
It’s been two hours now and I’m still getting them every ten minutes.
I wasn’t dreaming that?
No baby.
After a few hours of waiting, some calls to my boss to get me covered at work, we were on our way.
Once Gabby was settled in, and the doctors confirmed that this was no fluke, I left to make a few phone calls.
From there, the most fantastic day of my life unfolded. Each hour felt different from the next. The initial two hours seemed to fly by, as we were moved from the waiting room, to triage, to our eventual delivery room. From there, we awaited our family and friends as Gabby simply awaited for her medical help (as did my hand.)
And from there, we waited. Our friends and family began to arrive at noon with the arival of Araceli. Needless to say, this caused a bit of confusion, as she is about 6-7 months along herself. The nurses laughed at me as I ended up getting twice as much crushed ice as the other soon-to-be dads. The godmother (J the olympic shopper) and grandma (that’s Nana Almonte to you!) soon followed and I began to relax. At this point, I had gotten pretty ansty, as I had slept three hours combined over the last two days. It felt good to know that other people would be there to make sure I wasn’t over-looking anything.
But the lack of sleep was clearly getting to me. I never drink coffee, but I made my first of many trips to starbucks that afternoon. As I ordered a hot chocolate with two-shots of expresso, I was being flooded with text-messages asking how far along she was. Each message made me smile, as someone from every part of my life managed to contact me and show me their support and care.
I sat down, and enjoyed my hot chocolate. I looked around the cafeteria of the hospital and observed the others eating. Every female caught my attention (and not in the way that gets husbands in trouble.) A small family walked by with the daughter begging her mother for a chocolate milk. She was tanned with curly hair and wore a long blue coat.Will she look like that? A group of young doctors walked by, with a petite girl leading a discussion about one of the higher-ups. She was strong and in control, despite being around people who were her peirs. Is that what she’ll be like as an adult? I looked back at the family, now leaving, with the daughter drinking her milk. The mother had an expression of satisfaction. She was a taller reflection of her daughter, but with straight hair. She looked tired but happy, as she was being dragged through the hospital by her family. Will I be a good parent? Will she?
I got up from the table and began to walk to the elavator. Knowing that when I next came downstairs, I’d be a father. Knowing that, and feeling completely ready for it. Knowing that, and not wanting to wait a second longer for it to be so.
And our daughter did her best to keep the wait short. After a few hours of talking to my guest upstairs, I looked at Gabby. I could see that during the course of the day, she had a gained a very good sense of where she was in regards to the delivery. She knew when we arrived that this would be no false alarm. By the same token, she knew we’d be there for a few hours before we met our daughter. And after each of her predictions, the doctors would come into the room, and restate what she had just told me.
This time, she didn’t need to say anything. I looked at her and knew that it was going to happen soon. It was 4:35 and Gabby’s face said everything I needed to know. It looked the same way that it did in all of my dreams. The doctor came in to check on her.
She’s 8.5 along. Everyone must leave the room.
And with that, we began. Twenty minutes of pushing. Gabby didn’t cry once. I knew it hurt her more then she let on, but she put on a brave face and maintained focused. I counted along with the doctors for as long as could, getting distracted everytime the count got to past 8 because my daughters scalp was visible. Eight times. Three sets of 10-second pushes, 8 times. That’s all it took for my daughter to come to us. For the air to be knocked out of me. For our family to be three. For Joy to be here.
And there she was. Makayla Justine Almonte. Born at 5:15 on January 12, 2009. It’s amazing how a random time and date can be so important to you. To most people, 112 refers to an RnB group.
She was beautiful. Despite the fact that she didn’t seem to like me as much as i liked her lol.
I can’t explain how amazing it feels to have her here. That feeling of bursting that I always felt in my dreamed of is very real, but different from how I imagined it. Because my heart never empties for her. It overflowed when I saw her, and continues to stay filled with my love for her. Welcome home, Makayla.
P.S. Gabby is one of five children. I am one of three. All of my siblings are 8 pounds+ and all of gabby’s siblings were 7 pounds and change. So it meant a lot to me to have an 8 pound baby. So After our daughter was born, she was taken to be cleaned and measured. We waited eagerly for the results. Here is my response after the doctor arrived.
P.P.S. Pictures coming next.
