Last week my wife, daughter and I were perusing Target for some last minute things the day before we planned on going to the hospital to induce labor for the birth of our son.  After 30 minutes had passed, Amy was leaning over the cart complaining that her stomach was cramping and she was short on breath.  My four year-old was pulling on my arm, begging for a new Barbie with no regard for her mother.  Here I am between the two women in my life, one my needy daughter and the other my very pregnant wife; both demanding my immediate attention.    

    What do I do, I stick my foot in my mouth like most men do when they are under pressure by girls.  While ignoring my wife for the moment, I said to my little girl, “Stop yelling at me or you’re going to make your mother cry!  Look at her, she is about to cry.”  As we returned to the car and I tried to defend the verbal stupidity that had rolled off of my tongue earlier, Amy insisted that I began to time the minutes between what she suspected was contractions.  After discovering there was a contraction every three minutes, we concurred that we needed to get to the hospital quickly.      

    In my mind, we were not supposed to have the baby until tomorrow and it never dawned on me that it may happen sooner.  We took our daughter home, where her grandmothers were waiting and quickly explained to her that we needed to go to the hospital tonight rather than tomorrow. She hugged our necks tightly with love, and then we were off.  In the car, Amy told me something that she never does, which was to step on it, go faster!  I put my hazard lights on and drove my H2 like the Duke boys behind the wheel of the General Lee, straightening the curves and flattening the hills.  Her water broke 30 minutes after we arrived and she delivered our son, Steele Jackson Allen 4 hours later. He weighed 9.5 ounces and measured 20.5 inches. I take pride in saying he is built somewhat like Dallas Cowboys linebacker Zach Thomas.    

    Since his birth, my schedule consists of around the clock feedings and diaper changes that I do with dark bags hanging under my eyes like badges of honor.  The anticipation of my son’s arrival for the last 10 months has led up to this.  No sleep, personal time, or normalcy in my life.  It took four and a half years since my daughter was born for me to forget about this routine and here I am back in it.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s worth every minute but you don’t realize how tired you can get until you are deprived of sleep. Every time a birth announcement is made, it’s truly a miracle and a blessing on the world and their parents.  To watch the process of pregnancy unfold is a magnificent occurrence and when it’s your own, it’s that much more amazing. Even though there is plenty of work before you, having a child is an unmatched wonder. There are very few things in life I would make these type sacrifices for.  Every time I hold my son or daughter, I feel a sense of purpose that is above and beyond any other accomplishment in my life.  The title of father is a big job that requires superior skills.  If one does it correctly, I suspect there is nothing in the world as rewarding as giving a life to and molding another human being.