The Best Day

Of the three hundred and sixty five days of the calendar year, today (October 26th) is my favorite of them all.

Seven years ago my little boy, Luke, was born.  I remember it like it was yesterday.

I remember going to the doctor on October 25th -- the day before.  It was a surreal day.  Luke's mom and I had gone through the routine visits to the doctor for what seemed like an eternity.  We had known all along that he would be a C-section baby, but I don't think either of us were prepared for the doctor saying, "How does noon tomorrow work for your schedule?"

We went to Chuy's after the doctor's visit.  I remember the awkward silence of the late lunch.  The idea that, "So, tomorrow, we'll have a kid" was a pretty sobering moment.  There is something funny about the transition from being an expectant parent to an hours-away-from-being-an-actual-parent that is hard to put into words.

Trying to go to sleep the night before you know your child is going to be born is impossible.  I wish I could say that I had profound thoughts going through my head that almost-sleepless night, but really all the thoughts were along the lines of, "I can't believe I'm going to be a dad tomorrow."

We woke up early on the morning of October 26th.  I don't remember much about getting in the car and driving to the hospital.  For some reason, I remember being stopped at the light off the feeder road to turn on to Fannin.  It was a minor detail, really, but something in my head was resonating that once I took this left turn, I was going to be a parent from then on.

Funny, the things you remember.

The time at the hospital seemed to go by in a blur.  They had run out of the cool, light-weight surgical scrubs for the dad in the delivery room.  I ended up in a heavy surgical smock.

I got called into the delivery room and I remember being nervous.  Not nervous about being a parent -- that was still too surreal of a concept for me to grasp at the time.  I was nervous because I have a notoriously weak stomach and queasiness that I was deathly afraid would manifest in the delivery room.

Fortunately for all involved, everything moved so quickly that I never had time to pass out.

The funny thing was that it all seemed so bizarre that when I saw Luke being delivered, that I honestly couldn't decipher what I was seeing.  I honestly couldn't make heads nor tails of what I was looking at when he was born.

Suddenly, I realized, I was looking at my kid's buttocks as the doctor lifted him up.  Upon further examination, he had a full head of dark hair.

Based upon that moment in time, Luke would earn the permanent and affectionate nickname of "Monkey Butt" from me.  I still call him that to this day.  It may be a bit uncouth for a nickname, but it is all his.

The rest of the moments that followed happened quickly -- the taking of the footprints, the obligatory photos with Mom and Dad.  I suppose the drill was standard for all parents of a newborn.

And yet, they were so incredibly personal to us.

So, October 26th marks the seventh anniversary of the best day of my life.  It's the day I met my best friend in the world -- Luke "Monkey Butt" Newman.

For every dream, hope, and ambition that I ever had in life, becoming his dad eclipsed them all.

Happy birthday, Little Man.