Thunderchild's in bed, not feeling very well. I think the hockey last week really got to her as she's been sick since then. And to top it all off, they've had school tests this whole week so far. In fact, I have to wake her up tomorrow morning at 3 so that she can learn. Hopefully the Vicks Medinite will do its work.
Anyway, the reason for this episode is to put keyboard to bytes about the creation of TC, in case something happens to me and the story is never told.
It was in May 1996 that the wife and I went to the computer show at Nasrec, just south of Johannesburg. We would go almost every year. The Wednesday of the show she and I were sitting at the window seat discussing having a child: I was already quite sure I wanted one. I can't remember what she was eating, but it definitely was not the lasagna (they always put garlic in and she doesn't like it). So she tells me she'll give me until the Friday to make sure I wanted a child. Needless to say, Friday came and we started the "process".
Well, who would've thought that having a child is so difficult? I mean, a few seconds and that should be it. So, after a few months (8!) of procedures, pills and having a proctologist stick his finger up my backside and the gynae telling us to get "busy" every 2 days, I'm driving home from work one late afternoon on the highway just before the turnoff to Centurion and get a call on my cell: "Hello Daddy!" Those words blew me totally away - must be the most amazing words a wife can say to her husband.
So, the nine month (or thereabouts) process begins. The wife decides to do the healthy thing and only drink apple juice and Rooibos tea (I heard somewhere that in Europe it's referred to as "Cape Red"). The wife was determined that this baby was going to be healthy and have a minimum of 9 fingers.
I never knew the sex of TC until she was born (even though the wife went for an amnio I decided not to ask), so we referred to her as TLO - The Little One (which later in life became TLS - The Little Sh!t). There were many times I'd lay next her and talk to her while she was in the womb. The conversation would always start along the lines of: "Hello TLO, this is your daddy speaking, AGAIN!...". Other times we could feel her move. She'd get this rhythmic movement that would last for about 30 minutes that the doctor later said was hiccuping (hiccing up??). But it was so cool to feel her move inside. Towards the end of the pregnancy you can actually SEE her move.
When we went for the amnio they brought up her image on the monitor. Her hand was by her head and it looked like she was waving at me. Of course, I waved back. "Idiot," said the wife, "she can't see you". I kinda felt really stupid, but it was so cool to see my little baby.
And so you carry on getting the room, blankets, toys, clothes (for 0-3 and 3-6 months) and cot ready for the big day. The wife checked in the day before. I was up very early the next morning and made my way to the hospital - it was raining (how fitting for what we called her: no, not "Rain", "Skye" or "Cloud"!). Got there and the wife had to go for the epidural. Good God! I'd never seen a needle that long before. They stuck it right up her spine. Apparently you cannot have a cesarean without it...
OK, so she get's wheeled into the operating theater and a sheet is put up, I suppose so that we cannot see what was happening. The wife mentioned that she could feel the doctor tugging, but before we could do much more, he said in Afrikaans (and I quote): "Ah, 'n pragtige baba dogtertjie" Translation: Ah, a beautiful baby girl. I cried my eyes out. Having your child being born must be the most intense spiritual feeling and emotion imaginable. It's all so real now.
She started crying on the count of 9 (out of 10, whatever the hell that means). And she didn't stop for 2 hours. They had her in an incubator. I sat next to her the whole time, not knowing what to do. Do I touch her, hold her hand? Will the nurses moan? Chase me away? Eventually she managed to get a finger in her mouth which shut her up immediately and she was able to calm down. We could then wrap her in a blanket and take her to her mommy. It was a beautiful sight seeing the two of them together.
And that dear reader, was how the thunder rolled into our lives.
"En luister in die donker nag"
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