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“What is it?!” I screamed, my heart dashing in my chest. She wasn’t due for two weeks.
“I…I think my water broke,” she said through a whimper.
My hands shook,my damn mouth was dry, and I was pretty sure I’d pissed myself—twice, but there I sat, face wet with tears as I watched my little man do what Brooklyn called the breast crawl just moments after he’d entered the world screaming loud enough to wake the dead or at least scare the other folks inside Genesis Birthing Center.
Vann King London, Jr. was supposedly born a couple weeks early but weighed over eight pounds. As soon as he made his arrival, he was cleaned off and placed on his stomach on Brooklyn’s bare chest with his head full of slick black hair between her breasts. There he lay as the nurses and midwife went about the business of delivering the placenta, wiggling his legs and propelling his head closer to Brooklyn’s right nipple. My mother, Boss Lady, and I watched with tip-toe anticipation as this miracle unfolded. Britta was waiting by the phone. Brooklyn hadn’t bothered to include her mother at all. Through tears, Brooklyn softly rubbed his back and uttered encouraging words to him. It took the little guy fifteen minutes, but he finally lifted his head and found his prize, latching on for his first feeding. I actually applauded because I’d never seen anything like it, never even dreamed I’d have a son, and at that very second, I was sure my heart would burst with love for my wife of almost a year.
When I held him for the first time, I cried like I was the newborn rather than him, and when he fell asleep in the little cradle in the room at the birthing center, I held my woman’s hand and thanked her a million times.
A few hours later, we were cleared to go home, so I reluctantly left my family in the room to pull Brooklyn’s truck around to the door. Entering the waiting area, I noticed a lone man sitting in a corner. Curious, I stopped and observed as he stood, taking steps toward me. As he grew closer, I began to recognize him—tall, salt and pepper hair combed back, jeans and a sweater rather than the suit I’d always associated with him.
He stopped just in front of me, an older mirror image of me—my father.
Before I could speak, he did. “I…uh, your mom called, telling me about the baby and I drove as fast as I could to get here. I…I know it’s too late for me and you. I understand that, but I would like to be a part of my grandchild’s life.Please.”
Momentarily, I couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words, but I could feel his sincerity, see his remorse, so I simply nodded and finally said, “Okay.”
