We tried and tried to no avail. Even with help from a doctor. We would go to his office and offer some semen and he would do whatever he did. Your mom was trying. We finally decided to adopt. A week or so afterward we were up in Crestline at the Ingold’s summer house-a large house for a large family. We went water skiing and relaxed-it was the Fourth of July weekend with fireworks over the lake. I had long conversations with Mr. Ingold—I think he liked me. Soon after she was pregnant. We canceled the adoption process. We were ecstatic and hopeful. After all she had a miscarriage only a few years before.
So many memories intervening until she began having contractions.
You just didn’t want to enter this world. It was a struggle for your mom. A long day from about 7 in the morning. I was there much of the time and when Pop and Margret came we went up Santa Monica Boulevard to a restaurant for lunch (your mom was, of course, left behind at the hospital). We returned and no progress. It was painful and I was a bit overwhelmed because there was nothing I could do. I think I sweated and she—well let’s just say it was painful in bursts and never calm.
At some point, they gave her a boost to get you moving but to no avail. Pop took me out for a walk around the block, it was dark, I don’t remember what we talked about or how long it was. Then they decided to do a cesarean section procedure and soon you appeared.
The nurse came out—“it’s a boy” she said and demonstrated the fact by lifting the blanket and showing off your accoutrement. You were, if I remember, a bit tired and red. It was an ordeal after all.
Finally, we got to go in and see your mom. I loved her so and so love her ever so much now.
And that is the story of a day in December so many years ago.
Happy Birthday son.