Scientific Fact #12: You're A Father
Saturday morning, ice cold orange juice, blueberry pancakes and your daughter's red little newborn face on the back of the milk carton. You thought they stopped doing those, the missing child ads on the milk.
Last night you watched her sleep for half an hour and your bones shifted into this new configuration that you knew was forever. You're a father.
Your wife picks up Melissa, though the milk carton says her name is actually Shanna, and your hands starts to shake thinking you were away for your uncle's funeral when she was born, of course, and she was almost two weeks early but your wife said not to worry, that everything was fine. She wanted a baby so badly. You tried for three years. She cried and cried every time the pregnancy tests told her no, you're not.
Then when it finally worked doctor Spencer said be careful, you watch her, this kid's heartbeat is all over the place and then her spine was curved funny and they told you it's a high risk pregnancy, she might be stillborn.
"Is everything alright?" your wife asks, because you're gripping the milk so hard and maybe you're crying a little.
"Yeah everything's fine," you tell her, "The milk went bad."
On the way to the bin in the garage you realize that you'll have to move.
Last night you watched her sleep for half an hour and your bones shifted into this new configuration that you knew was forever. You're a father.
Your wife picks up Melissa, though the milk carton says her name is actually Shanna, and your hands starts to shake thinking you were away for your uncle's funeral when she was born, of course, and she was almost two weeks early but your wife said not to worry, that everything was fine. She wanted a baby so badly. You tried for three years. She cried and cried every time the pregnancy tests told her no, you're not.
Then when it finally worked doctor Spencer said be careful, you watch her, this kid's heartbeat is all over the place and then her spine was curved funny and they told you it's a high risk pregnancy, she might be stillborn.
"Is everything alright?" your wife asks, because you're gripping the milk so hard and maybe you're crying a little.
"Yeah everything's fine," you tell her, "The milk went bad."
On the way to the bin in the garage you realize that you'll have to move.