Fic: Come Daylight 17
Title: Come Daylight [17/?]
Author: wanderingjasper
Rating: FRT
Characters: Morgan/Reid, ensemble
Word Count: 5038
Themes: Fluff, romance, life!angst, mpreg.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I do take liberties with them for no financial gain.
Warnings: References to surgical procedures.
Notes: AU, unrelated to other fics, features Mpreg. A gift fic for my wifey Evo. Previous chapters: here.
Summary: The big day finally arrives, a little earlier than expected.
“All children mythologise their birth. It is a universal trait. You want to know someone? Heart, mind and soul? Ask him to tell you about when he was born. What you get won’t be the truth: it will be a story. And nothing is more telling than a story. ” - Diane Setterfield
Reid stirred awake to the sudden sensation of wetness. His first thought was that he’d urinated in his sleep, which wasn’t unheard of in pregnancy, especially with the fetus pressing down on the bladder. He quickly realised the origin of the dampness meant it couldn’t be urine, and there was no pain so it couldn’t be blood, which left only one option.
“Derek,” Reid reached over to shake his husband by the shoulder. “Derek, wake up.”
“You okay?” he muttered sleepily.
“Derek, I think I’m having a prelabor rupture of membranes.”
“Migraine?”
“No, Derek, I think my waters have broken.”
To his credit, Reid had never seen Morgan get out of bed so swiftly. He turned on the light and pulled back the covers to reveal the damp spot he was lying in. A wave of panic swept through him as he looked down at himself, and could still feel the trickle of liquid leaving him. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, blushing with embarrassment as he continued to panic.
“Are you having contractions?” Morgan asked.
“I don’t think so. I woke up because of the damp, not pain,” he said in a small voice.
“It’s just amniotic fluid, it’s okay.”
“No it’s not, no no,” Reid said, holding his belly. “This is too soon, it’s too soon to be happening.”
“Baby, Spencer,” Morgan said calmly, as he put his hands on his husband’s shoulders and squeezed. “You’re only three days early, it’ll be fine. I’m going to call the OB, and you are going to stay calm, okay?”
Reid nodded. He didn’t feel calm at all, because if he was honest he’d convinced himself that his planned caesarean date would arrive before his body naturally went into labour.
“Spencer, she said to bring you in within the next hour. She’s booking the OR for eight, but you need to be observed until then. It’s her day off, but she said she’d be there like we requested in our birth plan. She said even though you’re not having contractions, labor will probably start soon. And even if it doesn’t, you’re at risk of infection now your waters have broken.”
“I know.”
“She said you’re okay to have a shower before we go in, if you want?” Morgan’s voice was kind and gentle, but Reid didn’t miss the hint of excitement. He nodded, and let Morgan help him to his feet.
“Do you want me to give you a hand?” Morgan asked.
He shook his head, and waved a hand towards the bed. “Can you-?”
“Of course. Don’t worry about it, it’ll wash out, unlike that time we ruined our sheets with that chocolate sauce adventure.”
Reid couldn’t help but laugh, and he instantly felt better for it. The hot water over his body helped too, soothing away the sudden vulnerable feeling that waking up to his waters broken had given him. The pain took him by surprise, and he braced the shower wall with one arm as the other hand stroked rapid circles on his stomach to relieve the pressure of what was surely his first contraction. It was a tight cramping feeling, and he screwed up his face. When Morgan didn’t appear, he called for him as the pain faded after the peak.
“Derek,” he called. Morgan came into the room fully dressed. “I just had a contraction. I’m going into labor.”
“Okay pretty boy, we should go soon. Let’s get you out of the shower.”
“I’m still leaking.”
“You can sit on a towel. Not dignified, but it’ll work.”
“I’m going into labor,” he repeated, because he thought it needed to be said, as he stepped into the waiting towel Morgan was holding open for him. His husband wrapped him up and brought him in close, kissed his head and the bridge of his nose.
“It’s time, Spencer.”
“Are we ready for this?” Reid asked, nestling into Morgan’s warmth.
“Hell no. Nobody is really ready. But we’re gonna do great.”
Fifteen minutes later, once Clooney was placated and they’d made sure they had everything in their hospital go-bag, and they were ready to go, Reid had his next contraction. It seemed to hurt worse than the first and his knees wobbled. Morgan was right there of course, within grabbing distance, and did his best to support Reid as he gritted his teeth and tried to breathe himself through the pain. Under his hands he could feel the material of Morgan’s t-shirt and it was wrong.
“You need to wear a shirt,” he snapped.
“What?”
“Go put a proper shirt on!” He was glad that Morgan didn’t ask him why he had such a demand, because he wasn’t sure. He just knew it felt important. Derek waited for the contraction to finish and then hurried upstairs to change; when he came back down in a white shirt Reid was bracing his hands on the back of the couch and breathing through the residual pain.
“Have you got the bag?” Reid asked.
“Yes.”
“The birth plan?”
“Yes.”
“Did you call anyone yet?”
“I’ll call them at the hospital. C’mon, it’s time.”
They were driving but almost at the hospital when the next contraction came, about another fifteen minutes later. Reid gripped the nearest solid thing, which happened to be Morgan’s arm as he changed gear. Morgan quickly took Reid’s hand and let him squeeze, sparing a glance over as his husband hunkered down against the pain and groaned through it.
“I’m scared,” he whimpered. “If we don’t get there in time a natural delivery is a significant risk for-”
“We’re five minutes from the hospital, your contractions are fifteen minutes apart and first time labor isn’t usually quick,” Morgan said, falling well into the role of soothing and calming. “We’ll be there in plenty of time.”
They were, and all their planning paid off; their OB had made the arrangements for the caesarean being moved up, and they were shown to a room where they prepped Reid for an epidural.
“Who do you want me to call, Spence?” Morgan asked as Reid leaned forward, freshly panting from a contraction and now having a nurse push a needle into his spine.
“Your mom,” he said. “She’ll kill you if you wait until after to call her.”
Morgan chuckled and squeezed Reid’s shoulder.
“And Garcia. She can call everyone else.”
Their OB came into the room where Reid was being prepped, smiling and smelling faintly of coffee.
“Good morning. You couldn’t wait, huh? Don’t worry, I’ve made all the arrangements as per your plan. I’m going to go scrub in, a nurse will come help Derek suit up and you’ll be brought down to the operating room and we’ll get right on with it. Do you have any questions?”
Reid shook his head, trying not to focus too much on his lower body going numb. He wasn’t in much state to appreciate Morgan in the scrubs he had to wear in order to go into the operating room with him. It was strange to be awake as he was wheeled into the operating room, which was rather cold. Morgan was seated by his head, and stroked Reid’s hair away from his forehead as the OB got into position.
“We’re going to start now,” she said, from behind her mask. “When we deliver your infant we’ll wait a few moments to cut the cord, after it’s stopped pulsing, and close to the placenta so there’s plenty left that Derek can cut in preparation for clamping. You want to donate the cord blood, correct?”
“Yes,” Reid said.
“Alright, let’s get your child delivered.”
Reid reached for Morgan’s hand and squeezed, watching the surgeons move beyond the screen that obscured the view. The idea of seeing himself cut open didn’t actual faze him, but he didn’t want Morgan to have to see it, even if it was a routine procedure.
“Here they come,” the OB said, and Reid craned his neck to look, the sterile screen had been lowered just for this moment at their pre-arranged request. Reid could feel a tugging sensation in his lower abdomen, though it didn’t hurt or really register as more than pressure.
Over the top of the screen gloved hands lifted a very pink, slightly bloody infant, all their limbs still scrunched up tight against their body, their little face too, with a crown of fine dark hair plastered to their head.
“It’s a girl,” Morgan said before the doctor had a chance to, awe in his voice. “It’s a girl!” He practically whooped.
Reid couldn’t think of anything that mattered less than the sex of their child, when their child had just been born, plump and pink and tiny. The doctor held her aloft for several seconds, and then she was gone from site. He felt more tugging, and the doctor confirmed she was delivering the placenta.
“She’s not crying,” Reid said, almost dizzy with panic. “She’s not crying, Derek, she’s not-”
“Shh, shh,” Morgan stroked Reid’s head as the doctor instructed for the umbilical cord to be cut, and their child was handed to a midwife. “That’s normal, remember? They’re going to check her lungs, they’re going to-” He trailed off, his eyes following the nurse.
“Go,” Reid urged, and Morgan hurried over to help. The station where the infant was given a quick wipe and a check up, mouth and nose suctioned was in Reid’s line of sight. He watched as the baby - their daughter - writhed, those little limbs moving, and the nurse quickly walked Morgan through clamping and cutting the umbilical cord.
And then she began to cry. Great screaming cries for her size, tiny lungfuls of air swallowed down and screamed back out. The nurse handed her loosely wrapped in a towel to Morgan, who took her tiny naked form in his hands, and carefully made the few steps back to his seat by Reid’s head.
“It’s our baby,” he said as he raised the child up so Reid could see her, and lift a hand to touch the side of her face with his fingertips. Her cries had dimmed when Morgan picked her up, but she still whimpered her displeasure at being wrenched from the warmth of Spencer’s womb, bits of which still seemed to be stuck to her forehead, her eyes screwed shut. He touched her tiny hand, and she immediately curled her fingers around one of his.
“She’s here,” he breathed, overwhelmed.
Her head easily fit in Morgan’s hand, and her backside in the other, tiny against his broad grasp. She was an angry pink colour, small but plump like newborns were always pictured to be, with a small wide nose that Reid couldn’t resist touching. He stroked down from between her eyes over her nose and she snuffled, settling against Morgan’s hold.
“She’s small,” Reid said.
“The midwife said she’s a little under six pounds,” Morgan said. “She’s so light, Spencer.”
They sat in quiet, just looking at their baby as she wriggled and fussed. Morgan tucked the towel around her to protect her from the cool room, and Reid wanted to hold her, but it would be awkward in his position.
“Okay Spencer, Derek,” the OB said, “we have to move the baby while we finish closing you up and move you to the recovery room.”
“Can Derek keep hold of her?”
“Yes, but he’ll have to leave the operating room; he can meet you in recovery in about fifteen minutes.”
“I won’t leave you, Spencer,” Morgan said.
“It’s okay. Go with her, stay with her. I’ll be out soon.”
“Okay.” Morgan changed his hold on the tiny baby, wrapped the towel more securely around her and leaned down to give his husband a gentle kiss. “I’m proud of you, pretty boy.”
As Reid smiled it occurred to him suddenly why he’d told Morgan to wear a shirt. “Put her against your chest.”
“What?”
“It’s in the birth plan. Skin-to-skin contact is beneficial to newborns. Once you get out of here undo your shirt, and hold her. Even before they give her a vitamin K shot and a heel stick test. We can do that later, just hold her, okay?” He knew he was babbling, but the rush of chemicals, of love and dwindling fear and joy were almost overwhelming. “I want her to have the benefit of skin-to-skin contact, I don’t want her to be poked and prodded or left alone before I can hold her. I want you to hold her.”
“Okay,” Morgan said softly. “We’ll see you on the other side, okay?”
Sending his daughter away after only seeing her for a few short minutes had been fine in theory, to give her the opportunity to benefit from immediate skin-to-skin contact, but actually doing it was hard. He knew he’d see her again soon, but watching Morgan carry her out of the room, a midwife in tow, made him ache.
“We’ll have you out of here soon, Spencer,” the OB reassured. It still felt like an age, lying on the operating table as he was closed up. The OB did him the courtesy of explaining at length how the cord blood would be extracted, stored, and potentially used in the future, even though she knew he knew it already. It gave him something to focus on, words he could grasp while time stretched out unnaturally.
When they wheeled him into the post-op recovery room, Morgan was in a chair beside a cot, his white shirt open and his sleeves rolled up, holding their daughter to his chest; one hand supporting her rear and the other cradling her head. Reid could feel himself shaking, but he’d expected that from the epidural and the stress on his body.
“Hey, pretty boy,” Morgan said, once Reid was in place propped up and the nurse had left them alone. He came to the edge of the bed, still holding their baby to him. “Our little girl has a surprise for you.”
“Does she?” Reid asks, resisting the urge to reach for her, even though he wanted to hold her so much.
Grinning, Morgan carefully moved the hand that had been cradling her head down her back, revealing a head of now-dry fine ginger hair, which was even more striking against her light brown skin.
“Wow,” Reid breathed, a bubble of delight forming in his chest. “Your mom is going to be so happy.”
“Is there any red hair in your family?”
“My maternal grandmother. But I don’t mind if Fran wants to take full credit for this.”
Smiling, Morgan lifted the baby off his chest. Automatically Reid held out his arms, and he didn’t miss how Derek’s smile widened at the sight. She fit perfectly along his arm, nestled loosely in a blanket. He was surprised that her eyes were open, and they were a mid-grey tone. She made a small distressed sound at being disturbed, and Reid didn’t want her to cry so he rocked his arm slowly. After a moment she settled, her eyes searching for something to focus on. He knew she didn’t have very good vision yet, so he lifted his arms a little.
“Hello, little girl,” he murmured. Her eyes followed the sound, and he couldn’t call it recognition, but he hoped that it was. She focused on his face, big eyes watching him. “It’s good to see you. We’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”
Morgan had perched himself on the edge of the bed, and reached in to touch one of her feet, slotting his thumb against the arch of her sole.
“She’s perfect,” he said. “Isn’t she?”
“We’re biased. We’re - especially me - full of hormones relating to parent-infant attachment. She could have been born with tentacles and we’d think she was perfect.”
Morgan clearly agreed, as he leant in for a kiss over their child. As they pulled apart Reid could sense Morgan’s eyes grazing over him.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay, I’m still numb. I want to try feeding her for the first time before the epidural fades.”
“Yeah?”
“The first feeding is important, an infant gets their first supply of colostrum which gives them antibodies to fight infection.”
“I’ll go find our stuff, okay?”
Morgan went to fetch their hospital go bag, and returned with it, and a male lactation specialist who came in to observe, leaving them to try on their own, his experience ready to help them if they needed. Derek extracted the breastfeeding pillow and helped to position it so Reid could continue to cradle the baby without actually having to use his muscles to support her, and kept pressure off his incision. He held her against his bare skin and encouraged her to latch, the specialist encouraging his effort. After one attempted that was painful and the baby fussing when he pulled her off to try again, clearly unhappy with that turn of events, the second time she took better, and it felt odd but it wasn’t painful after she’d latched properly.
“There we go,” he cooed.
“You okay?” Morgan asked, Reid wasn’t sure to which of them, as he sat on the bed.
“Yeah. Pretty sure it won’t be this easy when we get home and don’t have a lactation specialist on hand to tell me I’m doing it right.”
“You’re doing great,” Morgan encouraged. “How does it feel?”
“Nice,” he said, unable to take his eyes off their baby as she made tiny snuffling sounds around his nipple, her little fist clenching and unclenching against his chest. “That could be the oxytocin breastfeeding releases.” His breathed hitched at a harder tug at his breast that was more a surprise than painful. “Did you pack the pump?”
“Of course I did, you watched me pack the bag, remember?” Morgan’s voice tinkled with amusement, watching Spencer as much as he watched the baby.
“Good. You should be able to feed her. I don’t want you to miss out on this, Derek,” he said as he stroked over their daughter’s hair, feeling the softness under his fingertips, and traced one particularly long curl around her ear. “Feeding is an essential part of bonding, and she has to learn she relies on you for food too.”
“You remember when you were worried you wouldn’t form an immediate attachment?” Derek teased fondly.
Reid did, but at that moment he couldn’t believe he’d ever doubted it. He loved her, immediately and completely; he never wanted to let her go, he’d be happy if she nursed at his breast for the rest of time, the three of them together in the grace period before his anaesthetic wore off. She was tiny, beautiful and perfect, and Reid thought for ever worry and hardship he’d had in the past nine months, she was worth every second.
---
When Reid was ready to be moved to their paternity room from recovery, they were finally convinced to let their baby be handled by the nurses so she could be weighed and measured accurately. She was given an injection of vitamin K and a heel-stick test, dressed in a fresh cloth diaper, wrapped in a blanket, and then handed back to Morgan so he could be the one to try and sooth her. He rocked her until she went to sleep, and settled in the bedside chair with her cradled in his arm so naturally, even though her cot was right beside the bed.
“Have you had any thoughts on a name?” Morgan asked.
Reid thought for a moment, looking over at his husband with their sleeping child. They hadn’t talked about names much; before Reid had found it hard, and now he was regretting his reluctance. They’d all but settled on a name for a male child, but now with a female child the choice was much harder. And then quite suddenly and unexpectedly he had a thought that settled into place with perfect ease, and he hoped it would be one Morgan agreed with.
“We should name her after your father, like you wanted.”
Morgan thought for a few seconds. “Samantha?”
“No,” and then after beat, “just Sam.”
“Sam,” Morgan said, testing the name on his lips. “I like it. Our baby girl Sam. What do you think, little one?” he asked their sleeping daughter in a hushed voice, as she gripped his finger in her fist. “You going to live up to being a Sam? I think you’ll like it. We’re naming you after your Grandfather, who was brave, and kind, and strong. All the things we’re going to help you be, pretty girl.”
The pain was starting for Reid and he’d just been given pain medication when a familiar face knocked on their door and entered with reserved excitement, a large bag over her shoulder.
“Hello, my doves,” Garcia said softly, as she set the bag down, and made a clear effort to make eye contact with them both before her gaze turned like a magnet on the baby in Morgan’s arms. “Oh my god.”
Morgan stood carefully as Garcia hurried over, rearranging the blanket around the baby so her face was clear on show.
“Oh god. I need pronouns so I can squee,” Garcia urged.
Morgan smiled. “A little girl.”
“Eee! She’s beautiful, boys!” she gushed, keeping her voice down. “Look at that red hair! Wow, how did she get that?”
Reid had an answer to supply about genetics, and usually he would, but he was trying not to move too much since his stomach was hurting and he felt tired.
“Have you named her yet?”
“Sam,” Morgan said.
“Just Sam?”
“Mhmm.”
“Cute!”
Reid could see her practically rocking on the balls of her feet, and her excitement was infectious. “You want to hold her, Garcia?” he asked.
“Oh, yes please!” she nodded, turning towards Reid.
“Careful,” Morgan said as he gently transferred her to Garcia, “we want to try and keep her asleep.”
Garcia adjusted and cooed, bobbing Sam up and down in her arms as she fidgeted, disturbed by the transfer. Reid tried to sit up a little straighter, and the noises of pain that caused him made Morgan rush over.
“What are you doing?” he hushed as Reid settled back against the pillows.
“It’s not that pleasant being stuck in a bed with a catheter in, you know.”
“I know, Spencer, but they’re not going to let you try and get up until this evening. And when they do there needs to be a nurse around to help. Just take it easy, I can get you anything you want.”
“Coffee,” he said, even though he knew he couldn’t have it and he was just being difficult.
“I promise when you can drink coffee again, I will make it just the way you like it at your beck and call.”
“Good,” Reid huffed. His incision site was aching, and as feeling came back to his legs moving them made it worse.
“Did you call everyone else?” Morgan asked.
“Yeah,” Garcia said dreamily. “I told them to come in the afternoon, to give you some time to adjust. I knew you’d be in recovery for a couple of hours.”
“Thanks. Did you bring the stuff?”
“I did. You want to do it now?”
“Yeah. Give Sam to Spencer, and I’ll call my mom while you set up.”
Garcia gently handed the baby to her father, under Morgan’s watchful gaze. The awkward angle jostled her a little, and she began to wake, a cry forming.
“Hey, Sam, it’s okay,” Reid cooed. “Shh, shh. Your daddy is calling your grandma, and Penelope is going to get up a video chat so she can see you.”
“Hey, ma?” Morgan said, on the phone. “Yes. I told you, no news would be good news. Mama, please. Garcia’s setting it up now; can you get to your computer? Okay. Who’s there? Okay.”
Garcia had a laptop out on a rolling table, adjusted to the right height for Reid, and the computer was turned towards her as she set up the conference. Sam had quietened again, comforted by Reid’s attention.
“Tell her to press ‘accept’,” Garcia instructed.
“Ma? Press ‘accept’. No? Okay, ask Des or Sarah to do it. Right.”
“Oh!” came Fran’s voice from the computer. “Hi there!”
“Hello, Mrs Morgan,” Garcia greeted.
“Hi, ma,” Morgan said as he hung up his phone, stepping into the laptop’s field of vision. Reid stroked Sam’s hair as he let Morgan make the introduction.
“Did Spencer have the baby?” Fran asked.
“Yes.”
“Everything okay?”
“It went fine. You ready?” Morgan turned the laptop around, and pushed it into place. Reid saw his own image in a small box in the corner of the window, where Fran was sat with her hands clasped at her chin, with Des and Sarah leaning in either side. Sam, as if on cue, waved her arms where they’d been freed from the blanket, and made a fussy noise.
“Oh my god,” Fran said, as the three women on screen made excited sounds. Derek adjusted the angle of the laptop just slightly, giving them a better view of the new baby.
“Ma, meet your new granddaughter.”
“Oh Derek, a little girl?”
“Look at her hair!” Sarah said, pointing at the screen.
“Oh wow! Mine was just like that when I was a baby,” Fran cooed, and Reid smiled at Morgan over the top of the laptop. “It got darker in the first couple of years, though. And you kids were lighter skinned when you were born than you ended up.”
“Spencer, she’s adorable,” Des said.
“Oh, Spencer,” Fran said, “how are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” he answered, smiling at the screen. “Just sore.”
Derek came to sit on the bed with Reid, slipping an arm around his shoulders.
“Have you named her?” Fran asked expectantly.
“Yeah,” Morgan said, peering down at her as she blinked slowly. “We called her Sam.”
“Sam?” Fran breathed. “After your dad?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s perfect, Derek.”
“It really is,” Sarah agreed.
“You have to bring her to see us soon,” Fran pushed. “Or I could come down to a visit? I don’t want to get in your way while you get used to being parents, but I want to just cuddle her, she’s so lovely!”
“We’ll work something out, Ma. If you get Sarah to teach you how to use the webcam on your own, we can do this a bit more often.”
As Sam began to cry in apparent protest to the idea, her grandmother and aunts only cooed and fussed more through the screen, watching Spencer’s attempt to calm her. It was a little unnerving having three experienced mothers watching him manage, but seeing how proud Morgan was beaming made it completely worth it.
---
“She’s beautiful, Spence,” JJ said.
Morgan had Sam in his arms, freshly changed and asleep after a slightly more difficult breastfeeding session, where Reid had had to move onto his side and use pillows to support her little form to line up with his nipple. Their former team and lifelong friends had come together from the office in the afternoon to greet the new addition to the BAU family they would always be a part of.
“She is,” Prentiss agreed.
“So, is your milkman a redhead?” Rossi asked.
“Dave,” Hotch chided, but he was hiding a grin, and Morgan played at mock-scandalised.
“She’s very small,” Seaver noted.
“Five pounds eight ounces,” Morgan said. “She’s in a healthy range, but she’s on the small side.”
“She’ll lose weight in the first few days,” JJ warned.
“I know, anywhere up to ten percent of her body weight,” Reid confirmed. “She’s going to be so tiny.”
“She wouldn’t have gained a lot more weight if she’d been born on her due date,” JJ said soothingly. “Sometimes babies are just small. She’ll catch up.”
“It was a little strange when Jack lost weight at first,” Hotch said, “but then when he started gaining it, it was pretty steady.”
“What did your mom say about the red hair, Morgan?” Prentiss asked, as she touched Sam’s little nose with a fingertip.
“Oh, she’s so happy,” he chuckled, “praying that it comes through red again when the baby hair falls out.”
“And her eyes,” JJ said, “they’re not dark, they might not end up brown.”
“Are you guys going to place bets on that too?” Reid asked, to a round of quiet laughter. “Who made the most money out of the pool, anyway?”
“Seaver,” Rossi said. “She bet on girl, on early delivery and the date.”
“Congratulations,” Reid said.
“You too,” Seaver grinned.
“Are you doing anything to mark her birth?” Hotch asked. “Haley was always disappointed we didn’t take more pictures.”
“We’ve taken lots of pictures,” Morgan said. “A nurse is going to help us do hand and foot prints this evening. But a few more pictures would be great. Who wants to hold her first?”
Sam was eventually jostled awake from being passed around and held for photos, but both her fathers weren’t worried; these were the people they trusted most in the word. Reid remembered the last time they’d gathered to celebrate a birth, when Henry had been born. Everyone had been happy, a respite in the midst of awful cases.
For them it wasn’t the same now; there were no cases to go back to, no terrible files to read. Sam’s birth was not an oasis of calm, but the start of something completely new. They weren’t sure what was going to happen, or what their life was going to turn out like, but as Reid looked over at Morgan holding their newborn daughter in his arms, amongst their smiling, cooing friends, he was looking forward to finding out.
“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” - Mark Twain