I remember the day my child was born with perfect clarity. It was a beautiful, sunny day. The bees were buzzing, the flowers glowing, and I caught a birdie on the ninth… one stroke under par. As I was about to drive the ball down the fairway on ten, I got the call that my wife was in labor and on her way to the hospital. Nine holes, one slice and twenty-five strokes later I was on my way as well.

At the hospital I got directions and walked in to find my normally beautiful wife now looked like a Satanic Priestess on the verge of sacrificing a small village to her dark gods. A nurse was trying to insert the epidural.  I walked to the bed and took hold of my sweetheart’s hand, at which point she told me I had three seconds to leave the room before my head was severed from my shoulders. I gave her a wink and a nod and told her I’d be in the hall if she needed me. 

Up to this point it had been nine months of pure excitement. The announcements, the doctor visits, the sonograms. I still remember the day a smudge on a piece of paper was held in front of my eyes and the doctor told me that this was my baby son!  How exciting!  I pictured all the great things I’d teach him like baseball, riding a bicycle, trigonometry. And for nine months we decorated and filled his room with all things educational and blue. We bought tons of cute little boy outfits and pajamas with feet. We even had a Diaper Genie, a miracle of modern science.

The birth was to be via C-section, and we were prepped and ready for surgery. My beloved, now doped up and looking a little more like the woman I married, was wheeled in and we held hands, anxious for the new lives we were about to embark upon. Incisions were made, pesky organs pushed aside, and a few minutes later the doctor pulled out a beautiful baby… girl.He didn’t find it at all amusing when I asked for a refund since he broke our baby. I tried to explain the baby boy I was promised was missing some vital pieces… that he just wasn’t going to work correctly without them, and I was told that there was a strict “No Refund” policy, and that I would just have to make due.

The nurse was cleaning off my brand-spanking new daughter. She made all the proper baby noises, and she was so cute the way her hands jerked spasmodically all over the place (probably just some residual transfer from the aforementioned Satanic Priestess). She was amazing in every way, and when I looked into those beautiful baby blue eyes I thought “This kid is going to be a troublemaker. Only 30 seconds old and she’s already stuck me with a room full of useless boy stuff.” But as the minutes passed, and I held her in my arms, Fatherhood settled onto me like a warm blanket, and I’ve spent the last eleven years getting to know this amazing person God blessed me with.

Today's guest post was written by Jetton Meador--single Dad to one precious daughter--sharing one father's perspective. Thank you!

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