The Story of Benjamin

Now that Benjamin is a little over two weeks old, I have a bit of time in which to tell the tale of how he came into the world. Ok, not that tale, ya pervs... I'm talking about the tale of his birth.

The night before Benjamin's birth, Vince and I decided to sneak out for one final dinner date. I'm not sure why, but I just had a feeling that it might be our last one for a while. Unfortunately, the restaurant we chose for our last supper was George Petrelli's Steakhouse, a place we drove by frequently. It looked nice enough from the outside, but once inside, we realized it was an establishment more suited to the blue-haired set. As we were seated in a maroon pleather booth, I had my first contraction. I dismissed it as a stomach spasm brought on by our strange surroundings. By the time we left the restaurant an hour later, though, I'd had three more contractions. Flash forward to midnight, and we're in the car on our way to the hospital. Vince is trying his hardest to shift gears gently, and I'm trying not to curse at him through clenched teeth. By 1 am, the contractions are about 5 minutes apart, a nurse is trying to perform an internal exam on me in between each one, and I've now started cursing at her. Wow, how do women do this sans drugs?

To be honest, the next few hours were a blur - being prepped for surgery, having the cesarean performed, even hearing Benjamin's first cry. When they showed him to me right after he was born, all I could muster was "He looks like an angry tomato," a comment which has been preserved on video for all eternity by my husband. I wish I could tell you that seeing him pierced my bubble of surreal shock, but it didn't. What did bring me back to earth was when the nurses brought him to me in the recovery room, and he began to nurse from me. As I gazed down at this wrinkled little creature in my arms, he opened one eye and looked right back at me. In that moment, I felt my entire universe condense to a tiny space that contained just me and him, and I realized completely and utterly that I had a son.

Benjamin had a rough first week at the hospital due to hyperbilirubin aggravated by a blood cell disorder. I won't dwell on those details, but instead focus on a few other more interesting ones. Like the fact that he inherited my toes - long, finger-like suckers that could grab a watermelon. Here are a few other things that we determined he inherited from me:

His crinkly ears.
His vocal cords.
The dimples above the corners of his mouth.

And from his Dad, he got:

His wavy hair.
His lips.
His eyes.
His nose.

Yes, he definitely looks like Vince, which delights me to no end. What also delights me is catching Vince talking to him when he doesn't realize anyone is listening. I worry that he might be laying on the academic pressure kind of early, though. I mean, who refers to his two-week-old son as "Dr. Chan"?