I need a family photographer. I need one because I suck. I need one because I am not in very many of my family pictures because I am the guy behind the camera.
I need one because I don’t want to be chastised by the delivery nurse again.
I was a wreck when my daughter was born. I was a wreck but I had no idea I was a wreck. I was in one of my very over confident phases where I am pretty sure that nothing could shake me. Sometimes, on the rare occasion, this creates tunnel vision and a lack of respect for the situation. I demand that the situation bows down to me, I bow down to no one.
In the delivery room, I was up by the head of my wife. There was no way I was going to be down by the business end. It was a C-section and I wanted no part of it. It’s not because I get queasy at the site of blood. It’s not that I would be disgusted by the inner workings of the human body. It’s because that this was my wife. And some jackass was using a knife to cut my wife open. And he was being very nonchalant about it as he was talking about his last vacation. I need a little focus here people.
I know that it is ridicules. I know that it makes no sense. But I don’t like to see anyone hurt my wife even though I know that it is necessary. When she got her epidural, which is with a 25 inch needle, I had to use every ounce of my being not to get up and plant the doctor on his uppity ass because I thought he was being a little rude to my wife. That is very hard to deal with.
I wanted to tell him that look jackass, she’s in a lot of pain, and just because you tell her not to flinch doesn’t mean that she won’t. I tell you what, let me jab that javelin pole into your spin, now don’t flinch.
But I didn’t move and sat with white knuckles feeling totally and completely useless. In these situations, if I cannot protect my family, what the hell do I do? I am the special guest on the Tonight Show that learns that Lindsey Lohan could make it to the show and I was no longer needed. So my role was to sit in the corner and give the doctor fuck you looks that I am sure he still dreams about. And I think at that time, early on, that I may have realized that I was in my over confident dictator state but I quickly dismissed it.
The very fact that I am over confident makes any discussion about me being over confident null and void because I will easily dismiss you as crazy and less hoss. I know, it makes no sense, but there it is.
When we reached the labor room, I was in the same mood. I was on top of this, I was ready to go. I was going to give my wife support like she has never seen support. I was going to let her bite down on my hand, kick me in the junk, curse me for every evil the world has ever known. And I was going to agree with everything she said. Yes, I am devil spawn and that is my devil spawn child.
Things went well and then my world crashed and the tunnel vision got so bad that I doubt I could have seen a typhoon coming at me from the side.
The doctor pulled out my baby and put it on Hossmoms chest. The umbilical cord, which I noticed was freaking huge, was in the way so I couldn’t tell if we had a boy or a girl. I caught a glimpse of the meat malt that was my wifes open incision and had to repress any desire for Hossman ass whipping.
They cut the cord, which I for some reason bet is oddly satisfying, and I saw that I had a baby girl. Then my world stopped.
I love my little girl but I honestly believed that she was going to be a boy. That is what I had expected. Now I have this little slimy thing looking around and yelling. I bought a hammer for my kiddo. I was that positive. And there was my girl. And there were all these people pushing her and prodding her. She was crying.
All of a sudden there was someone else to protect. There was someone else that needed to sit in the shadow of the Hossman no fly zone. And what the hell where these people doing to her? That’s my baby girl, can you kindly get us a fucking blanket she’s fucking cold.
They took her to the side and put her in that weird Baby O’ Torture chamber where they proceed to whip her with weird medieval instruments. They are poking and prodding and I still see no god damn blanket. I am midway between my wife and my daughter, both of them not looking to good. I am back to being useless jerky treat in the corner. I am the cheerio of life stuck underneath the sofa that you only find once you move.
And then the nurse says “Quick Dad, grab your camera and take a picture.”
Camera? Camera? I have no freaking camera. My wife’s uterus is pulled out and sitting on her stomach like a roasted turkey, my brand new daughter is getting the Spanish inquisition from Broom Hilda over there, and for the love of god can I please take off this fucking Umpa Lumpa suit now?! There are no pockets in these things, how the hell am I supposed to carry a camera into the delivery room?
The Umpa Lumpa suit was not made for quick movement or digital storage devices. It was made for a 5 foot 3, 110 pound prissy man and for Christ sakes do I have to have the world’s worst moose knuckle with this thing on? The very last thing on my mind was a camera.
The nurse shot me a judgment stare for not having the camera up and running. I also judged myself for forgetting this little detail. This is a huge day, a day that I had planned as meticously as I possibly could and yet I forgot to bring the camera. I am an extra in my own life.
I was allowed to wheel Little Hoss to the waiting room where we were mobbed by family. My arms tensed as I saw the stampede, I once again had a purpose, to protect my little girl. It was almost like dealing with my dogs when I get home, you have to throw a few judo kicks to get some space.
Everyone else seemed to have a camera and the flashes were going off. Honestly, I can’t remember what I was thinking other than Back the Hell up. I see those pictures now and, I know this sounds a little cocky, I look a little taller. It’s freaky, but in all those pictures it looks like everyone is smaller and shorter than me and my little girl.
With kid number 2 on the way, everyone please bring your camera. I will be totally useless.