A Letter To My Son

Dear Benjamin,

We found out you were on your way the day after Thanksgiving. Your mom had been nauseous for a few days and finally took a pregnancy test. We'd been trying, in a "let's see what happens" kind of way, for two years, but it was pretty much a given that some fertility drugs would be in our future.

That morning I woke up to your mom saying "What?" as loud as she could. I walked to the bathroom and I already knew what I was going to see, and she showed me the positive test. Then she cried - just couldn't believe it - and I held her. Then I raced out to get four more tests just to be sure. I think by the time the doctor confirmed you were coming we had twenty positive tests sitting in a baggie.

We told your grandparents and your aunts at the holidays by showing them your first sonogram picture. Your mom got tackle-hugged twice and a few people got choked up. Everyone was just overjoyed.

You were kind of a big deal.

* * *

I think as far as pregnancies go you were a pretty easy one, right up until the end. I had to rub your mom's feet more than a few times, and she had to go on a special diet because you messed up her blood sugar, but there was never any terrible pain for your mom and no real danger to either of you.

Not that I didn't imagine a few. You've probably seen Star Wars by now if I'm doing my job right. Well, I understand where Anakin Skywalker was coming from now. When you're a dad you can imagine all sorts of horrible things happening to your wife and son and be scared of them, no matter how ridiculous they sound. Traffic accidents were very popular in my mind for awhile. I don't know what I would have done if your mom had still been working in D.C.

I think, maybe, I didn't quite believe it was real, even when your mom's belly got big and you were just a few weeks out and we were taking parenting classes and setting up a crib for you. I kept thinking something was going to happen and I'd never get to meet you.

But I did.

* * *

The doctors brought your mom and me into the hospital on Tuesday the night before you were born. They wanted to jump-start her labor before you got too big to handle or something else happened. They gave her drugs that bumped her contractions up from "that's happening" to "Oh my GOD OW" pretty quickly - I think the time between the drugs starting and the epidural starting was the worst.

Your grandparents came to visit us in the hospital, and while your mom was talking to your grandmom there was a little "pop" on the monitor, like you'd kicked it again, and your mom's water broke. That was around seven in the morning. After that the labor went very quickly, then stopped by four in the afternoon for no apparent reason. So the doctors asked your mom if she'd like to meet you early via Caesarian section and she said "yes", and a little over an hour later we were holding you for the first time.

I got pretty overwhelmed. Okay, I cried. You probably can't imagine your dad crying all that well, but it happened. It wasn't sad crying, it was "too many emotions hitting me at once" crying. The nurses measured you - 8 lbs, 9 oz, 21 inches long - and cleaned you up and got you dressed in a little white onesie and a pink and blue striped hat. You hated that hat, it never stayed on your head.

Your mom came in to meet you and then had to take a nap because she'd been through a lot. Then we took you up to a hospital room and you got to meet your grandparents and your Aunt Lauren. Everyone thought you were adorable.

* * *

We took you home as soon as we could and introduced you to Lina. She wasn't sure about you at first, but once she got a good sniff she accepted you. She still likes to bark when we take you out of your bassinet, but she'll get over it once you start dropping some food for her in a few months.

You've been a really good kid for this past first week. You're healthy, you eat well, and for the most part you're quiet or sleeping. Sometimes you get fussy when we don't feed you as much as you want, but I swear we're just trying to make sure you don't eat yourself sick. You love car rides and your stroller and your bouncy seat and looking out the window. You like to walk around in your dad's arms and curl up with your mom in the recliner.

I hope you get to read this one day and know how much we both love you. We waited a long time for you to turn up and we're glad you're here now.

Love,

Dad

Tears and the Telephone... The Recovery of A Thousand Dollars From Bob the Banker... Everything Takes an Hour in Texas...

The first I knew of the problem was when my wife slammed her hand on the desk and demanded my phone.

I'd just helped her pick out a new Dell computer to replace her Inspiron, which I was going to upgrade and use to replace my computer - a win all around. Then Sarah opened her email and found a message from her bank letting her know that they'd declined the charge, for her protection. Because my wife is a 1337 haXX0r who'd bought an apron and a desk earlier that day to test out the credit card she'd stolen from herself.

I handed Sarah her phone, in case they were checking numbers, and went off to heat up a frozen pizza for dinner. I'd been fighting our home wireless network all day, and after that evil bastard I had no desire to witness the coming conflagration.

I could hear the conversation getting more and more heated, and then "Dave!" Sarah saw me come in to the office and told the guy on the phone "You're going to have to talk to my husband, because I'm about to start yelling at you." Then she handed me the phone and burst into tears. "It's the Gremlin," she explained, and went looking for tissues.

I put the phone to my ear and heard... something. Bob (not his real name) had a thick accent, and there was static on the line. I could have handled one or the other, but the mix blended into a symphony of gibberish and I could only make one word of his out of ten. In return, I had to yell all of my answers and tried to keep them to three words or less.

I eventually deciphered that the bank had canceled the charge to prevent possible fraud, and Bob had been trying to make Sarah call Dell to resolve the problem, because the bank certainly wouldn't do it again. Finally Bob agreed to conference me into a call with Dell to have them put the charge through again.

Let me be abundantly clear: Bob the Banker was going to call Dell's support system with me.

We waited on hold together for ten minutes, during which Sarah came into the office for a hug. Finally we got through to Al, who took my order number and offered to transfer us to the department that could actually rerun the credit card. Then he hung up. This is Dell's standard practice, apparently.

Bob called Dell back. Another ten minutes on hold. Chris picked up and took my order number again, also my address, name and phone number. He transferred us to the Very Important Department, which we got to fifteen minutes later. Donna picked up the phone and said "Hello?"

I opened my mouth, and then Bob began yelling into the phone at the top of his lungs right over me. So I shut my mouth and let him go on, then I noticed that Donna was saying "Hello? Can you hear me?" I said "Hello!", but Donna had already hung up. I heard Bob mutter "Are you serious?", and by God I felt for the man at that point.

Bob gibbered at me in a futile attempt to get off the phone, but I had him conference us in to Dell again. This time we got Jose, who in defiance of every law of telecommunications was the easiest man to understand I got the entire evening. He put us through to the hold system for the next twenty minutes.

At this point I was an hour into the call and was getting a little loopy. Sarah had brought me the pizza and a drink, so at least I wasn't hungry, but the entire call was so absurd that I couldn't stop giggling.

Finally Ellen picked up and offered to run the charge again. I confirmed with Bob that yes, it would work this time, the charge was run, and everyone confirmed that it had gone through successfully this time.

Ellen hung up and Bob asked if he could do anything else for me, a question so jaw-droppingly stupid that I assume it was part of his script. I blanked, trying to decide if I should demand he raise Sarah's credit limit or lower her interest rate, when Sarah saw my expression and snatched the phone out of my hands to lay into Bob for a good five minutes.

And that should have been that, but like any good monster movie Bob came back for one last scare. I found an email in my inbox saying that Sarah's contact information had been changed, something I should not have gotten. Apparently Bob, out of confusion or pique, had swapped my wife's email address with my email address, something I had never given him. When I worked up the nerve to tell Sarah she immediately called the bank, and the first thing she got was an automated message asking her if she wanted to activate her new credit card?

I took Lina outside to run around in the back yard. Every man has his limits.